


Beneath the Willow Tree

by Linquist



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, mostly with exceptions stemming from me being a dummy, the only thing i do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linquist/pseuds/Linquist
Summary: At the start of her fifth year, Andromeda knew what her destiny would be. She would marry her childhood sweetheart. She would live at her sisters’ side. She would be the faithful daughter she longed to be. But soon she finds herself entangled in events she cannot share with anyone, with secrets that frighten her as much as they tempt her. All while she meets a strange Hufflepuff boy at every turn; one who perhaps sees her too clearly for his own good.This is, at some level, a love story. But before Andromeda’s name was burned from the tapestry of her family tree, before she took Ted’s name and Ted’s ring, she was Andromeda Black; a girl caught between worlds. Told over her last three year's at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Rodolphus Lestrange/Andromeda Black Tonks
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to new readers of my work and any TFR readers! This was my 'comfort' write during covid and there are 10 more chapters beyond this already written. I'll be updating this every Friday while I focus on getting out the next few chapters of TFR. Update schedules and ETAs can be found on tumblr at callwrites. 
> 
> If you like Beneath the Willow Tree, please consider supporting organizations like the Transgender Legal Defense & Education Fund, National Center for Transgender Equality, or the Trevor Project. As a nonbinary trans person, Harry Potter was my comfort series growing up closeted and JKR's attacks upon the trans community have caused significant harm to my community. Support your local Harry Potter fics/rps/fan artists, but please do not give money to TERFs.

Narcissa’s hand gripped Andromeda’s arm so tight she was sure it would leave a mark. On her other side, Bellatrix’s elbow dug into her ribs and she could vaguely hear Valerian growling lowly in distaste. But the discomfort only lasted a couple seconds before the pressure was replaced with the stifling heat of the platform.

“Merlin, I despise apparition,” gasped Narcissa, stepping away from Andromeda and the cat whose voice was slowly rising into a yowl.

“It isn’t so unpleasant when done by a wizard,” said Bellatrix stiffly, also instinctively stepping away from her sister and her distressed pet. Bellatrix’s own dark gray owl, Wenlock, eyed them all judgmentally; displeased but without a feather out of place. “Thank you, Winny,” she added as an afterthought.

“Yes, thank you, Winny,” agreed Andromeda, offering a small smile to the little house elf who had been holding Bellatrix’s other hand. 

Winny lit up at the praise, which did little to improve her features. The ancient house elf was more wrinkle than elf at this point, bent in on herself and leaning on an old chair leg that had been fashioned into a cane.

“Of course, mistresses,” squeaked the elf. “Winny hopes you have a wonderful year at school.”

“Narcissa, thank Winny.” Andromeda frowned at their youngest sister, but Narcissa was already tugging at the robe of her sleeve.

“Oh, please, Meda, can I _please_ come to the prefects compartment?” She begged for possibly the millionth time that day. “I’ll be completely quiet, I won’t say a word.”

With a crack, Winny disapparated back to the estate; causing a fourth year nearby to almost jump out of their skin.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Andromeda with an unlady-like snort. “And Bellatrix already told you no. I _know_ you just want to get a peep at Lucius.”

At this, Narcissa flushed bright red. “I-”

“And if Lucius ever took a real look at you, I’d skin him,” threatened Andromeda.

“She could do worse.” Bellatrix pointed out, fingering the lock on Wenlock’s cage. 

“When she’s a third year, I’m not sure she could,” said Andromeda with the sigh of someone who had said this many, many times.

“I’m turning 14 in two months,” complained Narcissa.

“And if you like your boyfriend with his skin attached you won’t try flirting with him,” Andromeda replied in a sing-song voice. “Then _I’d_ be out of a prefect partner.”

Narcissa scowled, but had to stifle her smile when Andromeda pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Now go, I can see Alecto and Amycus trying to wave you down. Poor Amycus’s heart would break clean in two if he knew who you really pined for.”

If possible, Narcissa flushed a deeper red. But a few train cars down, Alecto was waving for her friend and Narcissa reluctantly scampered off to join them. 

“You’re too hard on her,” drawled Bellatrix. “You know Mum’s been encouraging her little crush all summer.”

“She’s too young, Bella,” sighed Andromeda. “Let her have silly crushes on boys her own age before you try to marry her off.”

The sisters made their way onto the train, Bellatrix waving her wand so their trunks and carriers lifted themselves up the steps and floated in front of them. “You know Mum will be depending on you to make sure she keeps the right company next year,” reminded Bellatrix for the thousandth time. “She won’t be happy to hear you chasing off appropriate suitors.”

“I know, Bella,” said Andromeda patiently. “But it isn’t like I chased her into a compartment of Gryffindors to talk about muggle studies. She’s with the _Carrows_.”

Bellatrix reached the prefect’s compartment first, which already contained several familiar faces. Narcissa’s beau in question sat by the window, conversing quietly with Evan Rosier, the 6th year prefect. Opposite, two Hufflepuff prefects and a Ravenclaw were talking in low voices. The Ravenclaw in particular cast a cold and appraising glance over at Bellatrix and Andromeda. She snorted, seeming to not like what she saw, and turned back to the Hufflepuff boy. 

But standing in the center of the compartment was someone very familiar to them indeed, checking something off a sheet of parchment with an eagle feather quill. 

“Rodolphus,” nodded Bellatrix.

“Bella,” he nodded back, then smiled slightly. “Andie.”

“Rod.” She smiled. “Settling into autocracy already?”

“It’s a natural gift,” said Rodolphus sagely, then glanced at Bellatrix who looked impatient. “After you two we’re just missing the Gryffindors and a couple of the Ravenclaws. We should be able to get started soon.”

Bellatrix sighed, waving their suitcases up over the seats. “Leave it to the Gryffindors.”

Andromeda took hold of Wenlock’s cage and Valerian’s carrier. She carefully stowed Wenlock off to the side of the compartment with some of the other owls, but kept Valerian at her feet. The cat had finally settled down after the traumatic apparition, but Valerian always was a nervous traveler. 

While they waited, Rodolphus sat down beside her and nudged her side. She smiled at him and received one in return, causing the shadows under his eyes to soften. He was far more handsome when he smiled, though in fairness he never looked bad. His dark hair somehow always looked soft and perfectly smooth. His features had grown more defined over the summer, she realized; his jaw sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. Normally she never noticed the minute changes that happened over time. She saw him too often. But this summer, she’d only had a couple weeks with him at their family estates in France. He’d even lost the last of the tan he had gained from their walks on the coast. But his eyes were the same: hazel and kind whenever they settled on her. 

Across the compartment, Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at her and mouthed the words ‘ _too young_ ’. 

Andromeda rolled her eyes. This was different. Narcissa was only thirteen and Andromeda hardly believed she was _in_ _love_ with Rodolphus. He was her friend, her person. He had been so since they were children when she would follow him through their families’ formal parties, clutching at the back of his robes. Sure, they both knew where it was going; precisely where their parents had encouraged it to go practically since birth. But Andromeda counted herself lucky.

Her future was known, secure with a man who knew her well and treated her kindly. She shuddered to imagine being in Bellatrix’s shoes, knowing her distaste for the ‘afternoon teas’ she had been forced to sit through all summer as parade after parade of mothers and their sons visited the manor. 

The last two prefects arrived, rowdy Gryffindors who were playfully shoving each other as they walked in. They settled with only a hard stare from Bellatrix, a skill which Andromeda had always envied. 

Rodolphus cleared his throat. “Good morning, prefects. Welcome back. I am Rodolphus Lestrange, I’ll be your Head Boy for this year.”

“Bellatrix Black,” Bellatrix put in, glancing around dismissively at the gathered prefects. “Head Girl.”

Rodolphus launched into a basic explanation of prefect duties and Andromeda allowed her mind to wander as Bellatrix took over the explanation on patrols and how they would get their schedules. She knew the duties well enough, both in following Bellatrix around on enough patrols and from her mother’s instructions. Prefect wasn’t an extracurricular _option_ for the Black girls. If there was a measurement of excellence, they _would_ achieve it. 

Outside the train window, they had finally left the urban setting of London behind. Her thoughts were already flying ahead to Hogwarts, causing butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Perhaps butterflies was not the right word. These felt much heavier and nauseating than butterflies; slugs perhaps. Fifth year was the start of O.W.L.s. Another measurement where nothing less than perfection would be tolerated. The thought alone had Andromeda wringing her hands in her lap.

Bellatrix was wrapping up her explanation of patrol schedules and Rodolphus tapped twice on her knee. She tapped back. It had been their ritual since they were children, not allowed to speak out of turn. Tapping first was a question. Tapping twice back meant ‘I’m okay’. 

But apparently Rodolphus was also making sure she was listening, because he didn’t then wrap up the meeting to let them patrol the train or return to their compartments. 

“Dumbledore asked me to address a couple things,” said Rodolphus, clearing his throat. “After the events of this summer, he wants everyone to feel assured we are taking student safety seriously.”

“Oh, I bet you care about every student’s safety, Lestrange.” The surly Ravenclaw from earlier snorted.

“Something to add, Meadowes?” Rodolphus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing at all,” she said and crossed her arms.

“For that reason, there will be a few changes this year.” Rodolphus went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Patrols will be done in pairs, no exceptions. If you need to reschedule, you will have to trade patrol partners with someone. If you have a conflict, you’ll need to let Bellatrix or I know a week in advance.”

“That’s unreasonable!” Cried a Gryffindor. “We have quidditch practice and assignments!”

“You’re a prefect,” Rodolphus said coldly. “At this point, you are expected to know how to balance your responsibilities.”

“Prefects will also be required to patrol during Hogsmeade.” added Bellatrix, seeming displeased with the safety measures. “We’ll sort out a schedule once we are notified of this year’s Hogsmeade weekends. There will also be a curfew of 9pm. Students will need to check in with a prefect when they return to the common room at night to ensure everyone is accounted for.”

“Professors are able to give permission slips for studying or detentions,” said Rodolphus. “But they will need to be given a day in advance. 7th year prefects will be given a list of their house after the sorting and will be in charge of their students this evening, but we will be sending out a schedule sometime tomorrow.”

“Isn’t this a lot to ask of prefects?” Abigail Clearwater, the 6th year Slytherin prefect, asked with uncertainty.

“ _I'm_ certainly glad.” A Hufflepuff girl said nervously. “One of the girls in my dorm was at Diagon during the attack this summer.”

The Hufflepuff next to her patted her hand comfortingly, but Bellatrix went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

“If anyone doesn’t feel up to the task,” she frowned, “they may turn in their badge with either Lestrange or myself. It hardly seems to me like the Headmaster has picked the best this year,” said her sister derisively, finally looking at the two Hufflepuffs. Andromeda was pretty sure they were both muggleborns and the girl flinched under Bellatrix’s cold stare.

“That will be all then,” Rodolphus finished with a clap of his hands. “Collect your schedules and you are free to go. It will include your patrols for the train ride.”

Bellatrix had the schedules for the girls, so Andromeda held back while the other prefects flocked around the head boy and girl. When all the others had collected theirs and departed, only Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Andromeda, and Lucius were left in the compartment.

Bellatrix tossed the last schedule at Andromeda and collapsed onto the seat opposite her.

“I still can’t believe we have to go so far out our way for the safety of a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors,” Lucius Malfoy grumbled.

“It wasn’t only muggleborns at Diagon Alley this summer,” Andromeda pointed out. “Azalia Greengrass was in St. Mungo’s for three days after the attack.”

“But Hogwarts is not Diagon Alley,” argued Lucius, lip curling. “And certainly no one is going to be attacking one of _us_ here.”

“Merlin only knows with Dumbledore,” sighed Bellatrix. “He allowed three mudbloods to become prefect this year.”

“It will be good for us to maintain appearances,” Rodolphus frowned. “Discretion will be wise given recent events.”

The other three exchanged a look and, not for the first time, Andromeda felt like she was out of place among them. They had always spent so much time together, both before and at Hogwarts. During breaks they had practically been inseparable. But this past summer, she had hardly seen Lucius and Rodolphus. Even Bellatrix had rarely stayed at their summer estate for long. It had begun to feel like they were all part of a club to which she didn’t belong, which she knew wasn’t far from the truth. 

“I’m going to go find Camelia and Alder,” she mumbled, taking hold of Valerian’s carrier and shuffling to her feet. “I’ll see you all at the feast.”

“Hold on a second, Andromeda,” called Rodolphus. “I’ll come with you, I have my patrol anyways.”

Her heart was still sinking somewhat, even as he got to his feet to follow her into the corridor. But she kept her expression even as he slid the door closed behind them and placed a hand on her back.

“Haven’t gotten to see you in weeks,” he said as they walked and it sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry for how chaotic things have been.”

“I understand,” Andromeda said with a small smile. “I know your father has you readying for the estate.”

He flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. He often seemed uncomfortable whenever the subject of his duties came up and it only had seemed to grow worse in recent months. “Yes, well, I’d much rather have spent the summer with _you_. The rest of the summer was … uneventful?” He asked and it was Andromeda’s turn to flush.

“Yes,” she said, a little harsher then she intended. “I mean … I mostly just spent it on the estate,” she said more quietly. “I learned a few new pieces on the piano.”

“I didn’t mean … I just….” he broke off, flushing again. “Well, I’d love to hear them sometime.”

“Sounds like a date,” smiled Andromeda as she spotted Camelia and Alder in the compartment next to them, already drowning in sweets. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you at the feast?”

“It’s a date,” he repeated with a strained smile and let his hand fall away as she slipped into the compartment and closed the door behind her.

“Your beau let you go?” Camelia asked with a raised eyebrow as Andromeda let Valerian out in the much calmer compartment. The fluffy white cat purred as she stretched and nosed around for Alder’s familiar offered hand. 

“He’s not my beau,” Andromeda said airily, but she was smiling. “And he didn’t ‘let’ me do anything. I was on my way and he walked with me.”

“I don’t know how you like him,” Alder shuddered. “He gives me the creeps.”

“How was your summer?” Andromeda asked, ignoring his comment. “Did you get my gifts?”

“Nearly had to face my little sisters in hand to hand combat for the last of the macarons,” joked Camelia. “But nothing exciting. Mum wanted me to start looking at internships, but I persuaded her that it wouldn’t make sense until I had my O.W.L.s.”

“It’s been miserable since I wrote,” Alder said glumly. “You remember my cousin Molly?” The two girls nodded, remembering the red-haired girl who had graduated last year. The two never spoke, hardly acknowledging each other. “She eloped with that Weasley bloke and Mum has been wailing ever since. I mean it was hardly any secret that that side of the family were blood traitors, so I don’t know why she is making such a big deal of it now. You’d think Molly’d broken off an engagement to Salazar Slytherin and eloped with a muggle the way she’s carrying on.”

“I can’t imagine what Aunt Walburga would do if I’d done the same,” Andromeda joked weakly and both of her friends winced. 

Valerian was pawing at the seat beside her, so Andromeda swept aside Bertie Bott’s containers and pumpkin pasty wrappers to make room for the cat. Feeling Andromeda pat the empty space, she dutifully hopped up, circled a few times, and then curled up purring. 

Andromeda remembered Molly from the few encounters they’d had. She hadn’t seemed too bad, if a bit strange - especially her interest in that odd Arthur Weasley fellow. But Bellatrix had _hated_ her and frequently returned from prefect meetings raging that Dumbledore had allowed two of the biggest blood traitors at Hogwarts to be _prefect_. While Andromeda understood to keep her distance, she had never quite grasped what had been so _particularly_ offensive to her sister.

But Andromeda’s words left a moment of discomfort in the compartment. Both friends understood that any pressures from their families had nothing on what it meant to be a Black. Druella had been displeased with even Andromeda’s choice of friends - despite them both being Sacred Twenty-Eight. But they were Ravenclaws and not of the same ‘class’ as the Blacks, Lestranges, and Malfoys. Andromeda was sure it was only Bellatrix’s assurances of Andromeda’s otherwise spotless behavior that kept her parents from cutting off the friendships. 

“Ah, well, why would you elope when you’re likely to get _drowned_ in galleons for your wedding,” Camelia teased, perhaps a little too late to feel totally natural. “Is it a Lestrange honeymoon tradition to shower your new spouse in jewels, or do you think that will just be because you're you?”

“Shut up,” Andromeda said with a roll of her eyes, but she was smiling. 

They settled into a more relaxed conversation about how they had spent the couple weeks since their last letters, before focusing on the sweets that still had yet to be tackled. Andromeda’s turn for prefect rounds finally came in the last hour of the train ride, so she left Valerian in the care of her friends - who were crinkling up wrappers and tossing them for the blind cat to hear and give chase. 

The train corridor was darker now, the yellow lights flickering as the shadowy silhouettes of the Scottish mountainside flashed past. Dusk had settled too much for Andromeda to make out details as she walked farther down the train. She periodically glanced into compartments, occasionally waving to familiar faces, and once breaking up a fight between two second years with a threat of telling McGonagall once they arrived. After so many hours on the train, most had settled, already changed into their robes, and were unlikely to wander far. Her patrol was uneventful, therefore, and her evening quiet.

She made it to the back of the train, alerted two seventh years that the loo was _not_ the most subtle of places to snog, and began the process of wandering back towards the front. She’d have to make a write up of her patrol, but both the second years and the seventh years had cleared out and calmed down without any trouble. She didn’t feel the need to report them to lose house points when they hadn’t even arrived yet. A first year nervously tugged at her robes and asked where they would need to go when they arrived, but once she had sent them back to their compartment with answers and a chocolate frog, nothing much else occurred.

Most of her hour patrolling was up when she finally reached the front of the train. She was considering making for the trolley and fetching a glass of pumpkin juice when she realized the door to the prefect compartment was slightly ajar and familiar, frustrated voices were drifting out.

“-know Cissy and Meda aren’t fighters,” Bellatrix snapped. “It is okay, since it is clear they’re both going to make good matches, but you _know_ it is even more important that he does not doubt her loyalty.”

“I understand that!” Rodolphus answered sharply. “He has no _reason_ to. Unless you’re suggesting something?”

“Don’t start that with me!” She hissed and Andromeda pressed herself against the wall between the prefect compartment and the end of the train car. It sounded like they were the only two left in there. “Andromeda has always kept herself in line. But that doesn’t explain why _he_ expressed his concern for my sister’s loyalties. He certainly didn’t mean Narcissa. She’s a _child_.”

Andromeda’s heartrate picked up. She had a good idea of who Bellatrix and Rodolphus were talking about. Their father had sung his praises enough times over the dinner table. Until this summer, Andromeda hadn’t even truly thought he was _real_ . She had thought him just a rumor that people like Cygnus and Druella Black _wanted_ to believe in. But then her sister and Rodolphus turned 17 that summer. Mr. Rodolphus had brought them both to a ‘meeting’ and that was when things had really begun to change.

Summers before had always been spent with each other, their summer estates close enough that their families were always together. If it wasn’t all of them, it was Rodolphus and Andromeda. But that summer they both disappeared for weeks at a time. Rod would return looking exhausted, Bella almost _manic_ . But why would _he_ be saying anything to Bella about _her_ ? Unless Rod had told him … but he _wouldn’t_ . He _promised_.

“There’s nothing he would have to be concerned about,” Rodolphus said firmly, but Andromeda didn’t think it sounded convincing. “And you know our families are just waiting until I’ve graduated to make the formal announcement. Once we’re married, he’ll welcome her.” He said _this_ with more confidence.

At these words, Andromeda shivered. She was not sure she wanted to be welcomed by him, regardless of how her father seemed to like his ideas. The reverent way her relatives spoke of him, like he was some kind of deity frightened Andromeda. She was perfectly content keeping her distance. Even Bellatrix’s involvement seemed too close.

“You had better convince _him_ ,” Bellatrix threatened, but she too sounded afraid. “I am not losing my sister, Rodolphus.”

“You won’t,” he promised fervently. “I’ll take care of her, I always have.”

Andromeda softened slightly. Then someone cleared their throat on the other side of the prefect cart door - causing Andromeda to jump and something to knock over within the prefect cart. 

The sour-looking Ravenclaw prefect, the one Rodolphus called Meadowes, stood watching her from where she had emerged from the front of the train. She raised an eyebrow as she took a slow lick on the blood-red lollipop in her hand. Andromeda froze where she stood, having clearly been eavesdropping. 

Meadowes was a small thing - almost a foot shorter than Andromeda, who wasn’t that tall to begin with. But the tight coils of her hair added several inches and her attitude made Andromeda feel strangely small; irritating her somewhat. She raised her chin defiantly, waiting for Meadowes to oust her. They stared off for a moment, until the Ravenclaw girl snorted and banged open the sliding doors to thrust a fairly crumpled report into Rodolphus’s hands. 

“Here you are, Head Boy,” she drawled as Andromeda walked in casually behind her. “Caught that rat brother of yours trying to turn a first year’s scarf into a snake. Have fun with that one.”

She turned on her heel and bumped into Andromeda, taking on a look of theatrical surprise that only Andromeda could see. “Oh, didn’t see you there,” smirked Meadowes as walked past.


	2. Teething

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda has several projects to consider before classes have even begun, though not all her company approves.

The feast was as delicious as ever, though the meal passed with a strange tension that could not totally be accounted for - either by Lucius’s scowl or Bellatrix’s complaints about the new Defense professor. Both Andromeda and Rodolphus struggled to find their footing; both were caught up in remembering his earlier conversation, with one of them pretending they hadn’t heard it.

“You’re not having dessert?” Rodolphus attempted to smile, seeing Andromeda refraining from the treacle tart she normally enjoyed.

“No, I’m headed to the greenhouses after this. I don’t want Professor Sprout to have to roll me out,” joked Andromeda weakly.

“You’re still doing that?” Bellatrix sighed.

“I told you last night I was,” said Andromeda a little defensively. “Professor Sprout got new Venomous Tentacula pods in last week and needs help repotting them - or else they’re liable to try to take a bite out of the third years tomorrow.”

“I think what Bellatrix means …” said Rodolphus with a sharp look at her older sister, “is that we’re just surprised you want to spend your first night back at the castle elbow-deep in manure.”

“You’re not going to be keeping that up after this year, will you?” Lucius asked skeptically.

“I was planning on it,” said Andromeda, trying to keep the sharpness out of her tone. “I  _ like _ the greenhouses. And herbology is very helpful for potionwork.”

“And you’re very talented at both,” went on Rodolphus in a diplomatic tone. It irked Andromeda, despite the caring words she had overheard. “But surely you can learn what you need from books. You can afford to buy the ingredients for your potions … without dirt involved.”

“Especially with a professor like  _ her _ ,” added Bellatrix. “I understand you enjoy your studies, but you need to think about the  _ appearance _ of things.”

Lucius was smirking and it made Andromeda want to knock the platter of treacle tart into his face. But losing her cool benefited no one - especially when Bellatrix apparently already had her own doubts. 

“Well, I’m confident that the appearance of things will improve after my O.W.L. results,” she managed to say, pushing back from the table. “With five prefects, I’m sure you’re well able to handle the first years and I’ll be back in time for curfew.”

“Andie,” Rodolphus murmured quietly, taking her hand as she stood. 

“Good night,” she said a little coolly. She took a deep breath and softened her tone. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll show you that piece if you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” he said with a smile.

“It’s a date,” she agreed, unable to keep back her own smile.

She ignored Lucius’s snort, returned Bellatrix’s good night, and left the Great Hall. 

Outside of the feast, the entrance hall was empty. Dessert was still underway and spirits remained high. Andromeda met no resistance as she made her way to the enormous doors of the castle and pushed her way through. The grounds were almost too dark to see, but she knew her way to the greenhouses by heart.

In the distance, the windows of the caretaker’s hut glowed warmly and, not for the first time, Andromeda wondered about the strange man who lived there. He had once found her lost as a first year and kindly helped her find the Great Hall - Bellatrix had lectured her for close to half an hour after coldly dismissing him. Her mother had then written to inform her that she was not to speak to him.

There was no time to dwell. A light was on in greenhouse three, the door kept ajar by an empty pot. Andromeda stepped inside, shuffling in a bouncing bulb making a daring escape, and closed the door behind her.

“Evening, Black,” Professor Sprout said cheerfully. “How was the feast?”

“Good evening, professor,” Andromeda replied, taking the dragon-hide gloves that had been set aside for her. “It was delicious as usual. How was your summer?”

“Busy!” She grinned. “But come on, these tentacula won’t re-pot themselves.”

Andromeda dutifully lined up beside Sprout, who stood before a low table that boasted about a dozen young and teething venomous tentacula. With a practiced hand, Andromeda pulled one towards her, distracting it with a gloved finger while she grabbed the larger pot and soil. 

“Our 6th years will be raising them and learning how to harvest them for ingredients,” she explained in her usual cheerful tone. “They’re not too deadly yet, but once they’re trying to strangle us we'll know they're ready to go.”

“I can see that,” Andromeda said bemusedly, using her elbow to knock away a vine that was reaching suspiciously towards her. 

Professor Pomona Sprout had only been teaching at Hogwarts for a year. She had arrived, in a flurry of enthusiasm and rare plants, when the wizened old herbology professor retired with most of his remaining fingers. Bellatrix had immediately distrusted her, despite not having continued with herbology herself (she was of the opinion that a witch should not be elbow deep in dragon dung). But Professor Sprout had seen Andromeda’s deft hand and noticed her frequent after hours visits to the greenhouses. She began giving her ‘extra credit’ assignments and slowly introducing her to the N.E.W.T. level plants she kept in the corners of greenhouse three. When Andromeda showed a more careful hand than some of her seventh years, she began to invite her to assist with some of the prep work for those classes.

Bellatrix hardly approved and Andromeda was sure their mother would not either. Professor Sprout was pureblood, they were reasonably sure, but she hardly _acted_ like it. She was a Hufflepuff, for one - a house known for blood traitors and muggleborns. She embodied everything that Druella Black would consider ‘inappropriate’ for pureblood behavior; from the way she dressed, to the way she talked, to the way she had kicked out Rabastan Lestrange on her very first day. He had called someone a mudblood and been immediately been given detention and sent to Slughorn. Despite Bellatrix's misgivings, she had chosen not to write to their mother about her concerns - so long, of course, as Andromeda remained appropriate boundaries.

The two never talked about personal things or politics. In fact, Sprout and Andromeda rarely talked at all. They settled into their routine, as usual, and enjoyed the companionable silence with the occasional crunching of dead rats fed to the hungry plants. 

As they potted the last one, Andromeda patted it soothingly. It made a low contented growl while it gnawed sleepily on a rat. Sprout stepped away from the table with a satisfied sigh. 

“That’ll do then, Black,” She said with a smile. “The 6th years will be able to analyze and feed them for the next few weeks before they’ll need to re-pot them again. You did good.”

“Thank you, professor,” Andromeda said softly, stepping out of the reach of the vines and taking off her gloves. “I appreciate you letting me help.”

“Made my job easier,” she said with her eye crinkling smile. “Are you still interested in taking on the wiggentree?”

Andromeda nodded and went to hang up the gloves. "I've been doing my reading and I'll get started next class. I'll need to get my prefect schedule before I can plan my greenhouse visits."

"Excellent, excellent," said Sprout from behind her, sounding satisfied. “You should start thinking about your N.E.W.T. special project.”

Andromeda turned around, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“It is early,” Sprout admitted. “But do some thinking. With your record, I could convince Dumbledore to bring in some rarer plants for you.”

“I don’t know if I will be continuing herbology,” confessed Andromeda, leaving Sprout looking surprised.

“Why not?” She asked, hands on her hips again. “You’ve the greenest thumb at Hogwarts, ‘sides me. And it seems you like the plants as much as they like you.”

Andromeda flushed and opened her mouth to answer, but found herself hesitating. She found she didn’t  _ want _ to tell Sprout that her family didn’t think it was befitting for a daughter of Black. She didn’t want to put down the professor who had supported her or the subject she loved. 

“Think about it,” said Sprout in a gentler tone. “I can recommend some books to you and you can do some research. You’re a talented witch, Black. You’ve got more options than you think you do.”

She nodded, face burning, and fled the greenhouse. Out on the grounds, a slight chill in the air stung her heated cheeks. In the distance, a lantern bobbed along the edge of the Forbidden forest; illuminating the caretaker on some errand. She didn’t think about her curiosity. She found she didn’t want to think at all actually. Sprout had meant her words kindly, but Andromeda found they festered uncomfortably in the back of her throat. 

She made her way to the common room in a bit of a daze. The familiar path to the dungeon was one she could take in her sleep. Thankful she had the password as a prefect, she slipped into the Slytherin common room with ten minutes to spare. 

Bellatrix sat in the armchair by the fire, feet tucked up beside her and looking very cozy. When she saw Andromeda enter, she checked her name off the list in her lap. Then her nose wrinkled as the smell of dragon dung manure hit her.

“Gross, Meda,” she complained and Andromeda grinned.

“Oh, come on, Bella,” she teased. “Why don’t we curl up and read together, just like old times?”

“Clean up and I’ll think about,” she sneered, but Andromeda heard the affection in her sister’s voice and recognized her struggle not to smile.

“Narcissa already headed to bed?” She asked and Bella nodded.

“She starts ancient runes tomorrow and was positively vibrating with excitement,” she explained, affection much more apparent now. “She said the sooner she went to bed, the sooner she could go to class.”

“Teacher's pet,” Andromeda smiled, happy for their youngest sister. 

“At least she chose better than you did,” said Bellatrix pointedly.

“I took ancient runes too! _And_ arithmancy.” She said, crossing her arms.

“Yes, and I also remember mother almost going into _hysterics_ when she found out you also signed up for  divination ,” said her oldest sister distastefully.

“You just don’t like that I spent all year predicting your demise,” she grinned.

“Yes, some seer you turned out to be,” said Bellatrix with a roll of her eyes, but she was smiling again. “Go wash off. You reek.”

Andromeda was smiling when she finally made her way towards the stairs, passing by the piano against the wall. A note sat on it, in Rodolphus’s neat handwriting.

_ Raincheck? _ It read.

She summoned a quill and scrawled a quick  _ ‘it’s a date’ _ and left it there, before hurrying up the stairs. The smell was starting to get to her too.

Her housemates were up and swapping stories about their summers when she finally arrived. They paused long enough to greet her and wrinkle their noses at the smell. She waved off their invitation to join them, explaining she just wanted to go to bed as soon as she washed up.

Soon enough, she was pulling closed the curtains of her four poster and falling into bed beside an already sleeping Valerian. But she found she didn’t feel tired at all. Her thoughts were buzzing, unwilling to let her rest. She thought about the conversation she had overheard between Rodolphus and Bella. Why was Bella worried? Especially about what  _ he _ thought of her?

She could understand why Rodolphus would have concerns, but he seemed as sure of her as ever. She had never stepped out of line, but for the once. And Rod had promised to keep her secret. 

_ You’ve got more options than you think you do _ , she heard Sprout’s voice.

She rolled over, trying to drown it out, and punched her pillow. No, she didn’t. And she didn’t want them either. She’d be Bella and Cissa’s sister. Eventually, she would be Rodolphus’s wife. 

She didn’t want any other options, she told herself. She didn’t.


	3. Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda goes on an unexpected patrol with a couple eventful encounters. She then meets someone after hours who may complicate things more.

The first two weeks passed in a blur. O.W.L. year was just as brutal as promised. Between prefect duties, the added work, her herbology projects, and her lunches at the Ravenclaw table, she hardly saw either her sisters or Rodolphus. It had taken two weeks for them to finally plan an evening for their raincheck, agreeing to grab dinner in the kitchens after his patrol.

“Gone?” Andromeda asked, agape. “What do you mean Rodolphus is  _ gone _ ?”

“I mean he’s not here,” Bellatrix said in exasperation, reclined on a couch in the common room. “Family emergency. He left this afternoon.”

“Family emergency?” She frowned. “Are Eugenia and Pollux all right?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, Meda,” Bellatrix sighed. “Rod wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for missing your little  _ date _ .”

“Why didn’t he owl me?” Andromeda frown. “Or let me know before he left?”

“Don’t be insecure, Meda,” said Bellatrix pointedly. “It isn’t a good look. Rodolphus is getting ready to take on the estate. He is busy and he won’t always be able to update you on every little detail.”

“I know that,” she said defensively. “I just meant-”

“You’ll have to take over his patrol,” interrupted her sister with another sigh. “You’re the only one free besides Malfoy and he refuses to take patrols with Meadowes.”

She felt suddenly very cold at the mention of the Ravenclaw prefect. 

“Why can’t you?” She asked, crossing her arms. “ _ You’re _ free.”

“Mother is flooing another list of potential matches,” Bellatrix admitted, scowl growing and Andromeda finally understood her foul mood.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” said Andromeda with a wince.

“I know my place,” Bella said, waving her away. “And your place is meeting Dorcas Meadowes in front of the Great Hall in half an hour.”

Andromeda gave no more arguments. She simply dropped off the last of her things and grabbed her warmer cloak, anticipating the chilly castle halls as the hours grew later. Bellatrix was rubbing her temples and reading the newly arrived letter, so Andromeda did not disturb her as she left. 

Footsteps echoing through the dungeon halls, Andromeda knew she was running early - a habit ingrained by a lifetime of having Druella for a mother. She allowed her steps to slow, trying not to dwell too much on whatever it was Rodolphus needed to leave school for. She wanted to believe Bella. She wanted to believe that Rodolphus had been called away for something about his family or perhaps even the estate. But her thoughts flickered back to the conversation she had overheard and the shadows under his eyes every time she saw him. 

The castle corridors were deserted as Andromeda wound her way through them. She found herself regretting the new policy of patrolling in pairs, thinking that a quiet stroll by herself might not be such a bad evening. But regrets or not, she found her way to the meeting place Bella had given her. It was no surprise that Meadowes had not yet arrived when Andromeda did, given that the large clock in the entrance hall showed it was still ten minutes to the start of their patrol. She noted with satisfaction that the Slytherin hourglass was already ahead of the others, glittering emeralds displaying the house points they already earned. 

“Thought I was meeting your Romeo,” drawled a voice from behind Andromeda and she turned to see Dorcas Meadowes strolling down the stairs, hands deep in the pockets of her muggle trousers. She looked otherworldly to Andromeda, in her strange clothes and the way her dark skin looked gold in the candlelight.

“My Romeo?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Your beau?” Dorcas snorted. “Your boyfriend?”

“Rodolphus?” Andromeda frowned. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me,” said Dorcas, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “What’s he doing then? Off torturing first years? Drowning kittens?”

“He’s a close family friend,” she said, unsure why she felt defensive. “And he had a family emergency, so you will be stuck with me this evening.”

“Bully for me then,” said Dorcas dryly and gestured for them to head down the corridor. “Though I’m surprised you’re still saying that considering your little eavesdropping session the other day. The child bride talk was a little off putting to me.”

Andromeda blushed. “Not that it is any of your business, but it is no secret that we will be married. It won’t take place until I’m of age anyways.”

Dorcas didn’t seem to think her words were deserving of an answer and just shook her head. They walked in relative quiet, not coming across any students out of bounds. They passed Sir Nick, who bowed.

“Good evening, Miss Black, Miss Meadowes,” he said graciously. “I thought you might like to know that Peeves has been putting gum in the doorknobs on the seventh floor.”

Dorcas sniggered and Andromeda sighed.

“Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” said Andromeda, returning a slight bow. “We will take care of it. Have a pleasant evening.”

He wished them the same and Dorcas glanced at Andromeda as they adjusted their pace to head towards the staircases. 

“What do you plan on doing?” She asked. “Threaten him with detention?”

“We’ll do a bit of clean up and send him on his way,” Andromeda said. “Better than dealing with Pringle holding an inquisition tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” Meadowes smirked. “Might be able to have fun with that.”

Andromeda chose to ignore this as they navigated the moving staircases up to the 7th floor. Most of the classrooms were unused on this floor, usually only occupied by Gryffindors and those trying to get to the owlery - ensuring the gum would likely be quite cemented before anyone else found it. The line of doors leading away from the staircase were already plugged and they could see Peeves working at another at the end of the hall.

“Hello, Peeves,” Andromeda called over. “What do you have there?”

Peeves finished jamming in the gum and then spun into the air, zipping towards them.

“Students out of bed!” He said gleefully. “My, my my, what troublesome beasties!”

“Knock off it, Peeves,” Dorcas said, arms crossed. “You know we’re prefects.”

He gave her a mocking salute as he spun upside down, opening his mouth before Andromeda interrupted him.

“Are you going to be cleaning that gum up then?”

Peeves cackled at the mere suggestion. “If it isn’t wee little Androma-dee Black. But I know something you don’t know!”

“I hope it is how you’ll be getting that gum out,” Andromeda replied, reaching into her pocket for her wand.

“Don’t you want to hear about what mischief your lover-boy is up to?” He said, grinning deviously with an upside down tip of his hat.

In answer, Andromeda drew her wand and muttered, “Waddiwasi.”

With a flick of her wrist, the gum shot out of the doorknobs and zoomed forcefully up into Peeve’s nostrils. Unfortunately, given that he had managed to get to seven doorknobs before they arrived, there wasn’t quite enough room for all the gum that was currently trying to wedge their way into his nose - leaving him spluttering and zooming away, chased by the chunks of gum that were still doing their level best to cram in with their counterparts.

“That’s a useful little charm,” Dorcas said, impressed.

“It comes in handy,” Andromeda agreed. 

They listened to the sound of Peeves’s cries as they got farther away, still attempting to escape the gum that would not give up until it succeeded in its mission. 

“McGonagall will be thrilled by that,” Dorcas observed, noticing that the poltergeist was indeed headed right for her rooms.

“Yes, well, perhaps we might wish to patrol another part of the castle,” Andromeda observed, turning on her heel and beginning in the other direction. 

“You’re not much like your sister, are you?” Dorcas observed.

“Which one? I have two,” Andromeda answered, voice gone a little cold.

“Oh, yeah, there’s that blonde one too, isn’t there?” Dorcas said thoughtfully. “The one that follows around Lucius Malfoy and always looks like she is smelling something foul?”

“That’s just how she looks around  _ you _ ,” Andromeda replied, trying not to grit her teeth but Dorcas only laughed.

“But, no. I meant your older sister,” she added. “Our stalwart  _ Head Girl _ .”

“I’ve always been told Bellatrix and I quite resemble each other,” Andromeda said a little stiffly, pocketing her wand when she realized she was still holding it.

“You certainly look alike,” agreed Dorcas. “But it seems to me you  _ express yourselves _ very differently.”

Andromeda thought about what she was saying, particularly the derisive tone with which she said it. She didn’t think Dorcas Meadowes meant it in a flattering way for either of them. But she could guess pretty easily what she meant. Bellatrix did not spare much manners for those she did not count her equal - and Andromeda knew that Dorcas Meadowes did not move in the same circles they did, regardless of her blood status. Bellatrix played well enough for an audience when she needed to - she was the top of their year and Slughorn worshipped her, likely why she was Head Girl in the first place. Andromeda also knew that Bellatrix had a reputation among the other houses, one that wasn’t entirely undeserved.

“I know where I stand,” she finally said, deciding to keep it simple. “And I don’t need to wander from it.”

“What a good and responsible answer,” Dorcas said, almost sneering. “How proud your parents must be.”

She resisted the urge to take the bait. “Yes, I should think they are,” she said evenly. “Tell me, Meadowes, can you say the same?”

Dorcas’s eyes flashed and it looked like there was quite a lot she had to say on the subject, but the door to the owlery tower opened before she could.

It was a tall, familiar blond who emerged, rolling down the sleeves of his robes. The look in Dorcas’s eyes reminded her of Valerian when she managed to catch a mouse.

“Malfoy, what a surprise to see you out after curfew,” drawled Meadowes, strolling forward, jamming her hands into her pockets.

Malfoy sneered when he heard her voice, but his sneer grew into a smirk when he saw who her patrol partner was.

“Meadowes, enjoying your night?” He asked coolly.

“Quite,” she said. “Tell me, what was it Dumbledore said about students breaking curfew? 50 points was it?”

“I believe he did,” Lucius agreed amicably. “After all, we’re all so concerned about our beloved mudbloods and traitors these days.”

Dorcas looked murderous, reaching for her wand, but Andromeda stepped in.

“Go back to the dungeons, Malfoy,” she interrupted.

Lucius and Dorcas both looked at her with differing expressions of outrage.

“Black,” he frowned. “I think you’re forgetting your place.”

“No, I’m remembering that I don’t want to handle paperwork or have to escort you back,” she answered dryly. “Prefects can’t take points from prefects, not without forms going through both the Heads and a professor.” She said this mostly for Dorcas’s benefit. “So let’s make this neater for everyone and I’ll see you at the common room.”

He eyed them both coldly and the look he gave Andromeda told her this conversation was not over. But with a theatrical swish of his robes, he made for the staircase that led to the dungeons. 

“I take it back,” Dorcas said with a curl of her lip. “I see Bellatrix in you now. You Blacks certainly do nepotism like no one else.”

“He was sending an owl, Meadowes,” Andromeda tried peaceably. “Not cursing babies.”

“No, that’s just what he and his friends did last week,” Dorcas laughed, but the sound was dark and twisted. “Tell me, do you really think your kind are that innocent or are you just soulless?”

“Don’t you know?” Andromeda asked with a raised eyebrow. “They remove our soul when we come of marriageable age, right before our debutante ball. It’s a Black family tradition.”

“Is that what helps you sleep at night?” Dorcas sneered.

“No, that would be rolling in all of the gold and jewels in my bank vault,” said Andromeda, tossing her hair back and beginning to walk again.

“You know, someday it isn’t going to be you and your cronies. It will be just you and a couple of blood traitors and mudbloods. Think your gold and jewels will help you then?” Dorcas said behind her, clearly not having followed.

“I think it will serve me just fine,” answered Andromeda over her shoulder. “Are you coming or am I finishing this patrol alone?”

Dorcas made no further comments, but Andromeda could feel the disgust rolling off of her. It didn’t bother her too much; her thoughts were preoccupied. What would she have done if Dorcas Meadowes _had_ drawn her wand? Lucius would not have taken it lying down and she shuddered to imagine the kind of spells  _ he _ would use. Perhaps she could have disarmed them both, but the thought made her shiver. The consequences of turning her own wand on Malfoy, even to protect him from the consequences of his actions, was enough to make her feel sick.

They finished the rest of their patrol in silence, departing from each other where they had met in front of the Great Hall. Neither of them said goodbye, but Dorcas did not curse her (either in wand or words) so Andromeda thought things ended much better than they could have. 

Andromeda thought about what might be waiting for her in the common room. Lucius Malfoy was likely furious with her for not ‘siding’ with him against Meadowes. If he were particularly spiteful, he might have told Bellatrix about the encounter (and likely been far more colorful than reality). Neither situation was one she wanted to walk into. 

So as she took the stairs down, she took a left towards the basement and away from the dungeons. It didn’t take long for her to find the portrait of the pear, even less to tickle it, and only one more step before she found herself in the kitchens; being enthusiastically welcomed by the house elves.

“Thank you, Dottie,” Andromeda said softly as a familiar elf happily took her hand and brought her to the table she often used, while the other elves quickly brought her what she needed (along with offers of various sweets and a mug of hot chocolate, the latter of which she gratefully accepted).

“Dottie is happy to see Miss Black!” She cried. “Dottie is very grateful for the birthday present. She keeps it in her cabinet, right by her pillow!”

“I’m glad, Dottie,” Andromeda smiled, starting to sort through the ingredients. With a practiced hand, she began to mix them together as another eager elf brought her the hot chocolate. She quickly took a sip and praised them effusively, despite everything tasting like ash on her tongue. But the elves glowed happily at the praise. 

When Andromeda first began coming to the kitchens at night and asked if she could bake, the elves had been horrified at the suggestion. They’d quickly offered her just about every manner of bread or sweet, eager to serve. But at Andromeda’s pleading, they had reluctantly made space. They’d been happier when Andromeda requested they teach her, happy to serve in some small way. But her greatest comfort was the simple bread recipe Winny had taught her years ago, and by now the elves were long since accustomed to Andromeda coming in to knead out her stresses. 

That was what she was doing now, as she spread flour out on the counter and plopped down the freshly made dough. She pounded it once, gritting her teeth and thinking of Rodolphus and his ‘family emergency’. What was it that Peeves had known? She kneaded the bread heavily. Probably he had overheard a conversation with Bella or Lucius or even Rosier. She didn’t need to know the specifics; she already had a pretty good idea.

She angrily thought of Lucius, flipping the dough over aggressively. What had he expected her to do? He’d put her in an unfair position. She was prefect. She had kept him out of trouble. What more had he wanted from her? 

_ Slam _ . And Bellatrix! What more could she possibly do to prove herself? She did everything her family wanted. She held her tongue, kept her head down. She took the classes they told her to - okay, she had taken Divination as well, but surely she deserved one silly leisure in her schedule. She kept up all the extra lessons, stayed practiced on latin and french and piano and ballroom dancing and family history and -  _ slam _ . She heavily kneaded the dough again. She had never done anything to betray her family’s values, not once!

_ Well _ , a guilty voice pointed out,  _ you did. Once _ .

The reminder felt like a shock to her system and she shivered. It was now the second time in two weeks she had thought of it, when she normally did so well at repressing the memory.

“Miss?” Said Dottie’s uncertain voice.

“Hm?” She asked, looking down and trying to keep her tone gentle.

Dottie pointed with a shaking hand and Andromeda noticed her pocket was smoking.

“Oh!” She quickly grabbed her wand, which had started setting off sparks in her pocket. She blushed and the smoking stopped with one wave of her wand. It had been a long time since she had lost control like that. “I’m sorry, Dottie. Thank you for telling me.”

“Is Miss Black all right?” The house elf asked uncertainly. 

“I’m fine, Dottie,” she said kindly. “I’m just stressed. My O.W.L. level classes are just difficult, that’s all.”

“Dottie worries for Miss Black,” Dottie said in a whisper. “Miss Black seems worried and Dottie hears things that frighten her.”

Andromeda brushed her flour covered hands off on her robes, mindless to the streaks of flour her hands left and crouched down on Dottie’s level.

“What frightens you, Dottie?” She asked, frowning.

Dottie’s eyes flickered around, as if worried about being overheard and wrung her hands. “Dottie hears things in the castle about Miss’s friends. She worries about Miss getting involved in things she shouldn’t. Things that could get Miss hurt, when Miss has always been kind to Dottie and her friends.”

Andromeda’s heart clenched. She didn’t know what to tell Dottie. What could she say that was both truthful and would allay the house elf’s fears? Andromeda wasn’t sure such an answer existed.

“I’m okay, Dottie,” she tried, keeping her voice soft. “I keep my head down and stay out of trouble. I know what I’m doing.”

This didn’t seem to entirely reassure Dottie, but at that moment the sound of the portrait opening interrupted them. Andromeda stood up quickly, turning to move the dough into the bowl set out for her. A masculine voice was greeting the elves jovially, something familiar about it. She heard the elves excitedly greeting him in response and Andromeda’s stomach dropped.

She looked over her shoulder, feeling dread rise in her throat, and saw a very tall Hufflepuff with messy blond hair and expressive blue eyes. He looked up, as if feeling her gaze on him, a friendly smile in place. For a second, it seemed like he was trying to place where he knew her from; but the jovial glint faded to something slightly more serious.

It was  _ him _ . The last person Andromeda wanted to meet alone in the kitchens.

Ted Tonks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I am going to be consistent about only uploading on Fridays  
> Also me: Cool, cool, coolcoolcool. But what about no


	4. Ice Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once, on a cold day some time ago, two people briefly met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early update, though it is a short chapter this time. Had a stressful day so I wanted to think about non-grad school related things. Let me know if the POV shift makes sense to you or not! I usually try to avoid POV changes.

January 1st, 1967 was the coldest day Andromeda ever remembered experiencing at Hogwarts. It felt like one could spill a glass of pumpkin juice at dinner and have it freeze before it hit the floor. The Black Lake was a solid sheet of ice, and even the willow tree beside it seemed to be bending under the weight of the snow. The few students in the castle remained largely in their common rooms, huddled around the warm fireplaces - likely the only place in the castle where you wouldn’t see your own breath.

Andromeda had flooed back to the castle that morning, under the excuse of needing the library to finish her holiday assignments. She had written to Professor McGonagall two days after Christmas, requesting permission and a floo connection. It had been granted and she had arrived, head bowed, with quiet thanks and excuses. She hadn’t gone back to the Slytherin common room, however, lugging her trunk and her tiny new kitten through the castle. 

Instead, ignoring the way she shivered even under her thick winter cloak, she made her way to the potions classroom. Slughorn had given her permission to use it and the storeroom any time she wished. Instead of facing down housemates and their potential questions about why she returned alone, she thought she might get started practicing some of the potions they would be studying that term. 

Valerian, tiny and puffed up for warmth, was curled up in the collar of her robes. She was purring, at least; so Andromeda wasn’t too worried about him. She  _ was _ , however, worried about a great deal of other things. Things which preoccupied her as she pulled her cauldron from the cabinets against the wall and distracted her as she made her way to the closet that held the most commonly used potions supplies.

Perhaps if Andromeda were paying attention (or if she had taken third year Defense Against the Dark Arts), she might have noticed something eerie and off about the cabinet. She might have noticed the slight rattling that came from inside of the storage closet. But as it was, she wasn’t (and she hadn’t). 

But it just so happened that there was one other student out in the corridors that day.

It was also the coldest day Ted Tonks, a third year who  _ had _ taken defense and was quite good at it, could ever remember. He had wandered from the cozy warmth of Hufflepuff’s basement common room, intent on the hot chocolate and fresh baked goods he could cajole from the house elves. His name was Ted Tonks and he was just reaching out to tickle the pear when the first scream shattered the icy quiet that hung over the castle.

He didn’t think, just reacted, and broke into a dead sprint. It sounded close and it sounded like a young girl. His thoughts raced as he tore around the corner, following the sound. He was wondering if he should find a professor, but the girl sounded like she was in terrible, horrible pain. What if she couldn’t make it long enough for him to get help?

The screams led him into the dungeons and, to his great confusion, the open door of the potions classroom. What he saw through it made even less sense. 

A girl lay on the ground at the front of the room, writhing and shrieking in agony, while a tiny white kitten, more fluff than body, stood on her chest, hissing and spitting at an unfamiliar man. He was very tall, or at least seemed so to the boy. His black hair was streaked with silver, his eyes were cold and grey. Ted did not think he was a professor. His wand was raised, a sadistic glint in his icy eyes. 

Once again, Ted didn’t stop to think about what he was doing.

“Expelliarmus!” He yelled, but the charm did nothing. The wizard did not even look up to notice him there.

Confused, he tried to think of his next move. Then he noticed the open closet door.

_ Oh _ , he realized. 

All but vaulting over the desks, he leaped in front of the girl whose screams had broken off into sobs of pain. Instantly, the wizard warped, whirled, and was replaced with a black and white character wearing a dress, a wig, and wielding a giant knife.

“Riddikulus,” said the boy calmly, wand raised. The image warped until it was Slughorn in the wig and dress, looking baffled and confused. Laughing, Ted cast a flipendo, knocking Slughorn backwards into the closet, which he slammed closed again.

He turned back to the girl, who was still twitching and gasping for breath, kitten still spitting and yowling at him.

“Fierce thing,” he mumbled, holding out a hand towards the kitten to show it he meant no harm to either of them.

“Wh-what…” the girl was choking out in between gasps.

“Oh, that?” Ted grinned, crouching down beside them. The kitten slunk back to hide behind a trunk left beside one of the desks. “Snuck into Psycho with some friends when I was seven. Had nightmares for months.”

Her brows were furrowed, confused, but her breathing was finally starting to level. She hadn’t tried to raise her head from the floor, which concerned him. What spell had that been?

“Boggart,” he explained again and her eyes closed, taking another deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Just a boggart. Just a boggart.”

“You okay?” He asked. She nodded, eyes still closed and still fighting with her breathing. “Who was that man?”

She didn’t answer, instead her eyes widened in panic and she flailed to sit up. Her limbs were still twitching slightly and he had to reach out and help her stay upright.

“Valerian!” She cried, looking around wildly. The kitten mewed quietly in response, crawling towards them slowly. 

“Thank God,” she breathed, reaching out for him with shaking hands. She held the thing to her chest and it began to purr again, like nothing happened to disturb them.

“Like they don’t even see me,” he muttered, but he was smiling slightly.

“He’s blind,” the girl frowned, a little breathless, and he laughed.

“Not what I meant,” he grinned, but it faded quickly into a concerned frown. “Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing? That boggart looked nasty.”

The girl shook her head violently, causing her brown hair to bounce and the kitten’s purrs to halt in favor of disgruntled grumbles. 

“Okay, hospital wing is out,” he muttered, casting around for the next best thing. “How about the kitchens?” He offered. “Chocolate makes everything better.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed in the kitchens,” she frowned.

“We’re not,” he confirmed with a grin.

She was still frowning, but the boy thought it looked like she was making an effort not to smile. He helped her get to her unsteady feet and she moved to put away her cauldron while the fluffy white kitten clung to her shoulder. He thought it looked like those claws might hurt, but the girl didn’t seem too bothered. He grabbed her trunk for her and she followed him shyly, chin practically attached to her chest as she stared at the floor.

The kitchens weren’t too far away, but the corridor somehow felt much warmer despite being as freezing as the rest of the castle. Maybe it was the artwork that featured more smiling witches and wizards, maybe it was that more candles and lanterns lined the walls and cast everything in a warm, flickering yellow. But whatever it was, it felt like worlds away from the nightmarish encounter. The girl already looked like she was beginning to relax.

“Watch,” he grinned as they approached the correct portrait. She did as he directed, wide eyed, as he reached out and tickled the pear. The portrait swung open, revealing the kitchens, and her jaw dropped. They were immediately swarmed by elves greeting them excitedly and once he had asked for hot chocolate and perhaps some biscuits, he in a low voice asked a familiar elf if there was a quiet corner they could sit. The girl’s eyes were wide, looking overwhelmed, and the cat had once again puffed up twice its size.

They were led over to a corner where things were less busy, presented with a couple of stools, and steaming mugs of hot chocolate were pressed into their hands. The girl held the mug tightly, seemingly clinging to the warmth. A plate was set between them and then they were left alone. The kitten climbed down from her shoulder to curl up in her lap, purring and ready to sleep.

“What’s their name?” He asked, thinking this was a safe topic of conversation.

“Valerian,” she answered quietly. “She was a Christmas present.”

“Odd name for a cat,” he said curiously. “Sweet of your family for adopting a special needs one though.”

“They didn’t,” she said in a voice that was almost a whisper. “We didn’t realize she was blind for a few days. My father wanted to get rid of her.”

The boy felt a rush of sympathy for both the girl and the little blind kitten. There were many questions on the tip of his tongue, but he elected not to ask any of them as the odd pair in front of him finally began to calm down. She seemed to curl in on herself, sipping her hot chocolate delicately and occasionally nibbling at a biscuit. After awhile the dullness seemed to leave her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said into her cup. “I don’t know your name.”

“Ted,” he smiled. “Ted Tonks. I’m a Hufflepuff.”

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say as some of the nervousness seemed to return to her eyes and her knuckles went white clenching the mug. 

“I’ve - I’ve never heard of the Tonks family,” she admitted and he found a little of the wariness seeping into him as well.

“You probably wouldn’t,” he said, trying for a natural easy tone and not entirely succeeding. “My parents are muggles.”

It was like he had struck her. She flinched, stumbling off the stool, and dropping the mug. Hot chocolate splashed down her lovely robes - Valerian protesting loudly and clawing back up her her side. Instantly, they were swarmed by elves eager to help clean it up. She waved them off, a little frantically, and a couple waves of her wand caused the repaired mug to soar onto the table and the stain to disappear from her clothes. 

She snatched up her grumbling cat and scrambled to where he had propped her trunk against the table.

“I have to go,” she said hurriedly and he watched a little dumbfounded as she fled the kitchens. The portrait closed behind her before the mug had even finished wobbling where it landed.

A few weeks later, when classes had begun and the rest of the students were back, Ted pointed her out to a fellow Hufflepuff and asked who she was. With a dark expression, his friend had told him that she was Andromeda Black.

“The whole family’s rotten,” said his friend quietly. “Up to their ears in dark magic, them. I’d stay far away.”

He thought about what they said, but he still sometimes wondered about the girl who kept the blind cat and whose boggart was a man with the same grey eyes. 


	5. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncomfortable confrontations. Uncomfortable conversations.

In the almost three years since that cold January 1st, Andromeda had never spoken to Ted Tonks. When she passed him in the hall, she let her eyes pass over him as if he was invisible as every other Hufflepuff she never noticed. She didn’t let herself consider that he knew the name of her cat or the shape of her boggart or what she looked like on the verge of tears. Ted Tonks meant nothing to her. If she thought of him occasionally when her eyes landed on the Hufflepuff table, it was only due to the discomfort of their first encounter.

She didn’t know Ted Tonks at all really, so the seriousness in his eyes shouldn’t have felt odd. But something about the way he was looking at her had a gravity that didn’t feel right. Almost every time she had ever noticed him, he was laughing or smiling. His blue eyes didn’t look right with a frown. 

However, perhaps she was wrong. She had never looked at him for longer than a few seconds, not since that day. He was much taller now, almost as tall as Rodolphus, and broader. He was a beater, she remembered, and he  _ looked _ the part. Quidditch wasn’t an appropriate pastime for pureblood witches and she and her sisters had never been permitted to learn anything beyond basic broom safety. But she had gone to enough matches to support Rabastan that she thought she understood it.

Realizing she was staring (and vaguely registering  _ he _ was staring quite openly too), she looked back to the counter in front of her, drew her wand, and vanished the mess of flour and dough. She turned, forgetting about the streaks of flour across her robes, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Is Miss Black all right?” Dottie asked nervously.

“Everything’s fine, Dottie,” promised Andromeda, looking down at the elf. She smiled, doing her best to keep the strain from her expression. Andromeda was quite friendly with many of the elves. Several had been employed by families she knew. But like Andromeda, she knew there were other purebloods in the castle with faithful ears in the kitchens.

Ted had crossed the kitchen while her back was turned and only stood a few feet away. He looked like he was casting around for something to say, but Andromeda could not fathom why. They were not friends. He had simply done a kind thing a long time ago. 

“How is Valerian?” He asked at last, as Andromeda was looking past him to the portrait hole and planning her escape. Her brow furrowed, both surprised and distressed. He gave her a wry smile. “It’s an odd name for a cat, easy to remember.”

She tried to ignore the flush in her cheek and sidestepped around him, walking towards the portrait hole. 

“What, you’re not even allowed to talk to a mudblood?” He asked dryly and she flinched, but he succeeded in stopping her in her tracks. The elves around them were silent, several of them looking quite nervous themselves. But it was not Andromeda who answered.

“Miss Black is a good witch!” Dottie cried out, sounding both nervous and defiant. “She is kind and good to us.”

“That so?” Ted asked curiously.

“Thank you, Dottie,” Andromeda said quietly, not turning. “But it isn’t necessary. And no, I’m not.”

She didn’t wait for anything else and she finally made it to the portrait hole undisturbed. She stood in the corridor, closing her eyes and trying to slow her racing heart. But she didn’t hear the portrait close behind her. Instead there was the sound of someone else stepping out into the corridor behind her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, hoping her voice sounded sharper than it did to her.

“I’m curious why Andromeda Black is kind to house elves,” he said honestly as Andromeda stepped safely away from him before she faced him. Her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “And why she has flour on her robes.”

“What difference does it make to you?” she said, chin up. “You said it yourself. We should not be speaking.”

“Say it then,” he challenged, searching her eyes for something. “Say you don’t talk to mudbloods.”

The taste of ash on her tongue was back. “I am a daughter of the House of Black.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” he said, some of that wry smile back. 

“You’re going to get yourself into something you can’t finish,” she said, the harshness she wanted finally leaking into her voice.

“I will, huh?” He asked with a tilt of his head that irritated her more than it should. 

Andromeda was just contemplating her next escape when a quiet mew interrupted them. Something soft and small brushed against her leg. She looked down to see her fluffy, white cat weaving between her legs.

“Valerian,” she mumbled, leaning down to scratch behind her ears. “What are you doing outside of the common room?”

But once Valerian greeted her mistress, she slipped past her to approach Ted. He looked down curiously as she sniffed at the hem of his robes. The little cat was barely bigger than his foot and looked like she was more fur than cat.

“Hello, kid,” he said with a smile, bending to let her sniff his hand. “You look like you haven’t grown at all.”

After a cautious sniff, her cat began to purr and pushed her face into his hand.

“Come on, Valerian,” she said with a frown. “It’s time to go.”

But Valerian ignored her mistress, purring even louder. Andromeda wanted to stomp her foot at the unfairness of the evening. She wanted to cry tears of frustration. She didn’t want to imagine the lecture that awaited her in the common room. She did not need the added fear of some pureblood at this castle hearing a muggleborn from Hufflepuff knew the name of Andromeda’s cat. 

“Andie?” A voice called down the corridor and Andromeda was torn between relief and horror. She whirled around to see Rodolphus striding towards them frown in place.

“Rodolphus!” She cried out, trying not to flinch at how guilty her voice sounded. But, as Rodolphus stepped closer, she could finally see his face clearly in the candlelight. “Rodolphus!” She gasped this time, moving quickly towards him and stepping onto her toes, hands fluttering over his face. “What happened?”

His right eye was red and almost swollen shut while a shallow cut slashed across his left brow and down his cheek. Dried blood was crusted across the cut. He looked more exhausted than she had ever seen him. 

“I’m fine,” he promised her quietly, hands going to her waist. “I just got back, I was going to grab something to eat before I found my favorite healer.” He said this with the ghost of a smile at her.

“Of course, I can help,” she fretted. “But you should really go to the hospital wing. Are Eugenia and Pollux okay? Bella said you had a family emergency.”

“What?” He frowned, then shook his head. “Yes, they’re fine, sweetheart. Who is this?” He finally looked past Andromeda to focus on Tonks, hands tightening possessively on her waist. His eyes narrowed.

“No one,” she assured him in a low voice. “Some Hufflepuff.” But his eyes were now on Valerian, who was rubbing against his legs.

“Ted Tonks,” Ted introduced, sounding more amused than anything.

“I didn’t ask,” Rodolphus said coldly, wrapping one of his arms around Andromeda’s waist to pull her towards the portrait hole.

“Valerian,” Andromeda said softly. “Head to the common room, sweet girl.”

Valerian finally pulled away from Ted, leaving his pants sufficiently covered in cat hair. She stretched long enough to make it clear it was because she wanted to and finally strolled off towards the dungeons. 

“Don’t get too crazy, lovebirds,” Ted called in a slightly mocking tone. Andromeda felt Rodolphus’s annoyance roll off him in waves.

“Ignore him,” she said into his collar, tickling the pear. “He’s trying to rile you up.”

The house elves greeted them, wisely not acknowledging that Andromeda had just left. They were more subdued, bowing lower than they had with either Ted or Andromeda. Rodolphus gave his order for dinner to be brought to him and a glass of pumpkin juice for Andromeda before he brought her over to the same table Andromeda had just abandoned.

“Do I want to know how you ended up covered in flour?” He asked as he sat, at least sounding a little amused now.

“I knocked something over as I left,” she explained simply, pulling out her wand to mutter quiet  _ episkeys _ to heal the injuries she could see.

“Do you know that boy?” He asked, eying her a little warily and Andromeda winced.

“I met him once, several years ago,” she explained, deciding honesty was the best policy. “Second year. I ran into a boggart and he came across me and scared it off. I left and we never spoke again. He came into the kitchens and tried to talk to me, so I left quickly.”

“Was he bothering you?” Rodolphus frowned, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from Andromeda’s face. 

“No,” Andromeda assured him quickly. “I was just leaving when Valerian showed up a moment before you did. I think he was having fun bothering  _ you _ though.” She said affectionately, patting his cheek softly as she healed the last of the swelling over his eye.

He eyed her skeptically and she knew her explanation didn’t account for why Ted Tonks was in the corridor with her. But Rodolphus didn’t press further, letting her finish fussing over him, checking for other injuries, until the house elves brought his dinner. 

It was a fair trade, she thought. In exchange, she wasn’t asking him what he had been doing off-grounds for his ‘family emergency’. Just the thought tied her stomach in knots. Trying to settle her nerves, she took a sip of the iced pumpkin juice Dottie brought; but she had a hard time swallowing past the lump in her throat. 

“You all right?” He asked gently, setting aside his fork and toying with a lock of her hair.

“Long day,” she said heavily. “I took over your patrol with Meadowes and we ran into Lucius at the owlery.”

Rodolphus frowned at this news. “I don’t want you patrolling with her. I told Bellatrix this. Meadowes is trouble.”

Andromeda laughed dryly. “Yeah, I realize that. I thought I was going to have to break up a fight between her and Lucius; who seemed very bothered I stepped in before he could have a go. But Bella got an owl about another suitor tonight.”

Rodolphus just hummed in response and Andromeda was struck by the shadows below his eyes.

“I miss you,” she whispered, playing with the hand that wasn’t in her hair.

“It won’t be like this forever,” he promised in a pained voice. “Once I prove our loyalty. We’ll have the world.”

“I don’t need the world,” Andromeda said instinctively then bit her lip. “This scares me,” she admitted. “You going off, coming back scraped up. The things I hear in the Prophet…. They’re talking like there’s a war coming.”

“It won’t come to that,” he said fervently, squeezing her hand. “They won’t stand against us. We’re making a better world for our children.”

Andromeda’s heart squeezed again, unsure about the world he was envisioning. But she had long since learned that accepting it was the only world where she kept Rod and her sisters. 

“It won’t be forever,” she repeated, trying to convince herself. “Then we will have the rest of our lives.”

“The rest of our lives,” he promised.


	6. Disillusionment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News comes to the castle. Andromeda has suspicions, goes for a walk, and makes a potentially deadly mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Chapter is coming in one morning late, my apologies! I had a medication change and I've been *out of it*. To make up for it, I'll post the next chapter today as well so you don't get left with a cliffhanger! Action definitely starts to pick up in this chapter. It was definitely very fun to write!

Monday morning came too soon, ominous and threatening double History of Magic and Potions - two classes Andromeda normally enjoyed, but now anticipated with dread. She had been distracted since her dinner with Rodolphus. She felt too aware of everything. 

Bellatrix had still been up when they returned and her disapproving gaze told Andromeda that Lucius had indeed snitched. But with Rod’s arm around her, Bellatrix let her stare do all the lecturing while Andromeda continued to fuss over him by the fire. But once he had gone to bed, she had laid awake for hours - thoughts instead on the intense blue eyes of a Hufflepuff boy. 

She had since felt those same eyes on her whenever she was in the Great Hall and it was driving her to distraction. At least in History of Magic she wouldn’t be a danger to herself or others, but she was certain something would end up on fire in potions if she didn’t get it together.

“Is there a reason Ted Tonks is staring at us?” Alder Fawley asked in a low voice at Breakfast, glancing over Andromeda’s shoulder at the Hufflepuff table. She was sitting with Cam and Alder at the Ravenclaw table this morning, trying to persuade herself to at least have a bit of toast.

“Ignore him,” Andromeda said firmly.

“So it’s  _ you _ he is staring at then,” Alder surmised. “Any reason in particular why Hufflepuff’s beater is staring a hole in the back of your robes?”

“Rod and I bumped into him on Saturday and I guess Tonks decided to mess with him,” Andromeda dismissed, hoping neither of her friends would call her on her bluff.

Camelia, not one for subtlety, turned in her seat to openly stare at the 6th year boy. “What, is he thick? Does he  _ want _ to get his arse kicked?”

Andromeda guessed Ted Tonks waved because Camelia started to raise her hand in answer, looking mightily confused. Andromeda snatched her hand down and pulled her to face forward. 

“I said ignore him,” she hissed again. “I don’t need Rodolphus in detention for a month defending my honor.”

Camelia snorted at this, but obeyed her friend.

“Owl post,” Alder pointlessly observed as a change of subject. 

Indeed, owls were sweeping into the Great Hall carrying packages and trying to snag bits of their owners’ breakfasts. A Daily Prophet owl landed in front of her, observing her gravely and sticking out his leg. She gave him a knut and a nibble of toast before taking the paper and letting him fly off. 

She unfolded the paper, hoping for a distraction from her hyper awareness of the stares coming from both Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Her hopes were not high, but she was jolted by surprise as she spotted two vaguely familiar names.

_ Dark Mark spotted in Muggle London _ , the headline read. 

_ Known muggle rights advocate, Septimus Weasley, was found dead outside his home early Sunday morning by his wife Cedrella Weasley who was returning home from visiting their son, who recently married. His body was discovered under the Dark Mark, which was also spotted by three muggles in the area. The scene was located near the sight of a skirmish between Aurors and wizards of unknown identity late Saturday night. Septimus Weasley was known for his work on the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans and advocating for greater protections for… _

Andromeda set down the paper, suddenly feeling quite sick. The little bit of toast sat like cement in her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Alder asked with a frown, pulling the paper towards his plate. “Oh, Merlin. That’s awful. I can’t even imagine.” Then his frown deepened. “She must have been visiting Molly and her new husband then.”

“Cedrella used to be a Black,” Andromeda mumbled, trying to keep her voice down. “She got blasted off the tree.”

Camelia had snatched the paper away from Alder and was looking for herself. “Merlin’s beard,” she muttered. “My mum was just talking a few weeks ago about that lot. Likes their ideas, if not their methods. Wonder what she’s thinking now.”

But Andromeda’s thoughts weren’t on Camelia’s family. They weren’t even on Cedrella Weasley or what it would be like to come home to the Dark Mark. Her thoughts, selfishly, were on the altercation the paper described, on Rodolphus, and the injuries he had returned with late Saturday night. The ones she had healed without a second thought, without questioning him further.

“Tell Slughorn I’m not feeling well?” She asked Camelia, who shared her potions period. Her friend nodded, looking concerned, but didn’t press as she pushed back from the table. She ignored the eyes that felt like they were watching her from all directions now and made for the entrance hall. She didn’t really know where she was going, mostly focused on just  _ away _ . 

She made it out onto the grounds before she realized what she was doing. The late September morning was chilly and bit at her through the sleeves of her robes. She hadn’t expected to be outside at all today, so she was unprepared without a cloak. Thoughtlessly, she pulled a spare quill from her pocket and transfigured herself a rough shawl. It had a pattern that still looked suspiciously like the barbs on her eagle feather quill (transfiguration had never been her strong suit), but it suited her needs fine as she made her way across the grass.

She was halfway there before she made the decision to find her way to greenhouse three. She knew Professor Sprout had no classes on Monday mornings, preferring to have that time to ensure everything was ready for the week. Andromeda had been making progress on the wiggentree, but she would have to check in on it soon anyway.

The greenhouse was blessedly empty when Andromeda arrived, slipping on the pair of gloves she kept hung on a hook behind Sprout’s worktable. It wasn’t essential for her project, but they were useful as she batted away the vines of the still-quite-young venomous tentacula. 

Her true project sat in a large pot against the far wall, out of reach of some of the more aggressive plants in the greenhouse. It was a personal favor for the Care of Magical Creatures professor - a wiggentree for the Hogwarts grounds. With any luck, Andromeda would be able to nurture it to a size where it could be planted on the grounds and attract a few bowtruckle for students to observe. It had at last sprouted a few days before, which Sprout assured her was an achievement in and of itself. But even though it had shot up almost a foot, there was little Andromeda could do besides check the soil for its moisture level (perfect), measure its leaves (they were leaves), and recast the growth and protection charms (which had yet to wear off from her previous visit). 

She ended up sitting in front of it, arms on the table and resting her chin upon them. She stared at the wiggentree, hoping that doing so would solve her problems. Supposedly, the bark of a wiggentree’s trunk offered powerful magical protection - as Andromeda had learned when they studied adult wiggentrees the year before. But as right now it was indistinguishable from any other young rowan tree, she doubted it would offer her much protection now.

Was she wrong to have immediately assumed Rodolphus was involved? What if it had really been a family emergency? Besides, why would  _ he _ be sending a  _ Hogwarts student  _ on an important mission? This thought actually managed to comfort Andromeda and lift her mood briefly.

_ Because Voldemort doubts your loyalty _ , that snide, guilty voice pointed out.  _ And Rodolphus is loyal to _ you. She remembered what Rodolphus had said the other night, about proving their loyalty. What Bellatrix had said on the train. Dread boiled up the back of her throat again and Andromeda quickly pulled off her gloves to rub at her stinging eyes. But he  _ couldn’t _ know. Andromeda had never told a soul but Rodolphus.

“Miss Black,” said a surprised voice behind her and she jolted up, nearly knocking over her wiggentree pot in the process. “Don’t you have class?”

Professor Sprout stood frowning in the door of the greenhouse, looking cross with her hands on her hips. She froze, feeling like a deer before a wolf.

But Sprout’s scowl seemed to land on Andromeda’s shaking hands and reddened eyes and she softened. “Oh, dear, you saw the Prophet. Mrs. Weasley’s maiden name is Black, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never met her,” Andromeda said hurriedly, her first instinct to deny her connection to the ‘traitor’ rather than accept the offered excuse to get her out of trouble. 

But Sprout seemed to see this as Andromeda’s evasiveness of ‘personal’ conversations. Looking a little misty eyed, she came over and patted Andromeda on the shoulder. Andromeda flushed and looked away.

“I’ll write a note and send it on to Professor Binns and Professor Slughorn,” she promised kindly. “I’m sure you have much to process this morning.”

Andromeda looked up at this, frowning in confusion. What did she mean? Her ‘grief’ at a relative she never met losing her husband?

Clapping her hands to clear away the strange tension in the greenhouse, Sprout shuffled up beside her to take a closer look at her wiggentree.

“It’s doing quite well,” Sprout smiled. “They’re tricky things as sprouts, but I’m thinking we should be able to get this one in the ground before Halloween.”

“Really?” Andromeda asked, excitement distracting her for a moment.

Sprout nodded. “It will do best the sooner the bowtruckles find it, so we should plant it as soon as it is strong enough to survive on its own. I’ll have to talk with Hagrid and Dumbledore about the best place for it. Would you like to accompany us in searching the grounds? We’ll be in the Forbidden Forest, but we won’t wander too far in.”

“I’d love to, Professor!” She said eagerly. “I’ve never been in the Forbidden Forest before.”

“I should hope not,” Sprout chuckled. “Let me send your notes off and I’ll send for Dumbledore.”

As Professor Sprout shuffled over to her work table, pulling out a quill and parchment, Andromeda found her nerves had returned. She hadn’t thought Sprout had meant right  _ then _ and she  _ certainly _ hadn’t imagined she would be sending for Dumbledore. How many times had she listened to her mother and father complaining about the Headmaster? From his decisions, to his politics, to his robes, he was perhaps even more an antithesis to Black values than Sprout. What would they do if they learned Andromeda had willingly met with him?

She sat nervously in her seat, wringing her hands and contemplating escape, as Sprout’s notes disappeared into thin air with a wave of her wand. They only waited a minute before an answer appeared with a thin popping sound. Professor Sprout picked up the folded piece of paper from the table and smiled as she read it.

“Professor Dumbledore apologizes that he is indisposed but says that he has sent on a message to Hagrid, who should have a few locations for us to visit,” she said happily. “He also sends his gratitude for your fine work and says he gives twenty points to Slytherin.”

Pride bloomed in Andromeda’s chest, not oblivious to the compliment from a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore. She turned, securing the tree back in its place on the shelf, triple checking the protection charms, and then turned to follow Sprout back onto the grounds.

Professor Sprout strided towards Hagrid’s hut with confident, hurried steps, and Andromeda found herself having to half-jog to keep up with the portly woman. Andromeda’s curiosity about the caretaker was not enough to outweigh her nervous jitters at what Bellatrix would say later, but she followed without complaint.

The door to Hagrid’s hut opened before Sprout even had the chance to climb the steps up to it. Hagrid was stepping out, an enormous bag over his shoulder and a shabby pink umbrella on his hip - in spite of the unseasonably bright sunshine out that day. 

“Morning, professor!” Hagrid greeted, grinning through his tangled brown beard. Neither woman being tall, Hagrid positively dwarfed them both from the top of the steps. “Just got Dumbledore’s owl. I’m afraid I’ve got me own work to do for the Headmaster, but I can point you to the section of the woods where you should find yer best spot.”

His eyes flicked over Sprout’s shoulder to where Andromeda was standing ramrod straight, hands behind her back, and slightly out of breath. He frowned slightly at the sight of her, but said nothing before he focused back on Sprout with a bright smile. 

“Lead the way, Hagrid!” Sprout declared cheerfully, stepping back to let Hagrid step past them.

If Andromeda had needed to almost jog for Sprout, she was just shy of breaking into a sprint trying to keep up with Hagrid’s huge steps. Sprout seemed completely unbothered by the giant man’s fast pace, hurrying along beside him and asking him about the various creatures he was helping Professor Kettleburn care for. They passed the main part of the grounds and were well onto the other side of the lake when Hagrid finally slowed down and gestured with one hand that was about the size of Andromeda’s full torso. 

“You should have yer best luck here, professor,” he said gruffly, but not unkindly. “Trees aren’t too thick, soil’s good, and you won’t find too many of the, er, feistier creatures runnin’ around.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” said Professor Sprout, practically glowing. 

“I won’t be too far away if anything happens,” Hagrid offered, eyes flicking to Andromeda. “Shoot up sparks, give me a holler or somethin’. I’ll come runnin’.”

“That’s very kind, but Miss Black and I should have it well in hand,” Professor Sprout said confidently, seemingly missing the implication behind his words.

Andromeda did not miss it, but Hagrid, somewhat begrudgingly, finally moved off farther down the lakeside. Sprout turned to her, rubbing her hands together and looking excited enough that Andromeda’s own spirits began to rise again.

“All right, Black, you know what to look for,” she said, peering through the darkened trees. “Shouldn’t find anything too dangerous this close to the forest’s edge, but make sure you stay in sight of the treeline. Send up white sparks if you think you’ve got a good spot, red if you’re in a bind.”

Andromeda nodded and let Sprout direct her into part of the forest, dividing the area up between the two of them. Andromeda then set off on her own, wand drawn and lit, feeling very grateful not to be in History of Magic.

Hagrid had been correct that this was probably the best section of the forest for the wiggentree. She had already seen a few spots that could work in a pinch, but nothing really stood out as perfect. She needed a spot with enough sunlight, but also provided enough shelter for bowtruckles to feel comfortable setting up a perimeter.

She had been walking for a while when she realized she wandered farther than she thought. She looked back over her shoulder and could just see the sunlight glittering on the lake in the distance. Looking ahead, she saw a sunny patch in a break in the forest; which looked quite promising from several meters away. Thinking a little farther in wouldn’t hurt, she stepped up to the edge of the sunny patch, staying back so as to disturb nothing. She was just thinking this would work and considering sending up sparks when she saw something shift in the shadows on the other side. 

Her eyes narrowed, at first thinking she was just overthinking the shift of underbrush. But  _ no _ , what she was seeing was  _ wrong _ . It looked like the underbrush, but it moved the wrong way: against the wind, a branch swaying in the breeze and stopping as it touched something. Whatever it was froze, but not before Andromeda’s mind supplied the answer: disillusionment charm. 

She reacted first, sending up red sparks and diving behind a tree - just in time for a red curse to crash through the underbrush where she had been standing a second before.

Twisting out from behind her shelter, she cast a quick  _ revelio _ \- once again barely missing another curse directed her way. But as she glanced quickly out of the protection of the tree, she saw she had succeeded in her aim. The wizard’s cloak had been stripped of its charm, making it easier for her to aim a quick stupefy their way.

It missed, but this time he must have answered with a blasting hex because the tree  _ exploded _ behind her. She felt stabs of pain all along her back as she was flung through the air. Something heavy and sharp slammed into the back of her head as she fell, causing her face to smash into the ground. Though her ears rang, she heard a deep growl behind her.

“Avad-”

Ignoring the pounding and burning pain, Andromeda flung her wand arm behind her and followed the voice.

_ Impedimenta! Expelliarmus! Stupify! _

Thankful for her parents’ pressures on their daughters for the first time in her life, Andromeda knew her nonverbal spells hit home by the gasp, clatter, and thud that followed them.

Ignoring the spinning of her head and swiping at some of the blood that was spilling into her eyes, Andromeda staggered to her feet and stumbled to the prone figure in the perfect wiggentree clearing. He had collapsed backwards, his hood finally fallen away.

She had felt hot and dizzy a moment before, but everything suddenly went quite cold as she looked at him. She knew that face. Her favorite person in the world was practically his double: Pollux Lestrange was unconscious and bleeding by her own wand. 

Biting back a scream, she felt white hot panic burn up her lacerated back.

“Obliviate!” She cried, putting all her strength behind her spell - the force of which slammed into him and caused him to crash several feet back, still out. She saw the broken pieces of his wand on the ground where he had been and kicked them into the brush.

There was a crashing through the underbrush and Andromeda whirled with a cry, wand raised. But it was difficult to see through the blood still pouring down her forehead.

“Andromeda! It’s me!” Sprout’s voice said from the hazy figure in front of her. “It’s me, Black! It’s me.”

Andromeda lowered her wand with a choked sob and she heard Sprout asking what happened, but it was all spilling out too quickly.

“It’s Pollux, professor! I attacked Pollux Lestrange. They’re going to kill me, oh, Merlin,” she choked, hands going to her throat and wand dropping to the forest floor. “They will kill me once they find out. I obliviated him. They can’t know, they can’t know.”

Andromeda could not tell you what Sprout had been doing or thinking while she had this meltdown, but the professor took hold of her face in both her hands; mindless of the blood. “Black, hush. Listen to me. There’s not much time. Hagrid is coming and there could be others. I found him. He attacked me. You recognized your father-in-law to be and tried to protect him. You were a silly, stupid girl who acted emotionally and got caught in the crossfire. You’ll lose Merlin knows how many points and get detention for the rest of your life, but you’ll be forgiven for it. I’ll have to tell Dumbledore, but no one else needs to know. They won’t know. Nod if you understand, Andromeda,” she said urgently, wiping at the blood obscuring her sight. “ _ Nod if you understand _ .”

Choking back another terrified sob, Andromeda nodded; trembling violently in Sprout’s arms; the professor practically holding her up at this point. 

It was not a moment too soon, as someone else came barreling along the path Sprout had taken. Hagrid burst through the trees, looking around wildly.

“Professor!” He shouted and blanched at the sight of Andromeda, covered in blood, supported by Sprout, and an unconscious wizard behind them.

“It’s a head wound, Hagrid,” Sprout said gravely, summoning Andromeda’s wand from the ground at their feet. “It bleeds a lot, but is likely not as bad as it looks. She needs to get to Madame Pomfrey as soon as possible. You’ll need to carry her to the castle and alert them that I will be following behind with an injured outsider who attacked a Hogwarts professor.”

Hagrid said something but it sounded garbled to Andromeda, whose vision was steadily growing black. She felt him sweep her up, which was quite a strange sensation given she felt like she was sinking into darkness.


	7. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda must pass off the lie and decide who to trust.

The first thing Andromeda realized as she came to was that there was an uncomfortable pressure on her chest, rather like someone was laying down on top of her. She wrestled her eyes open, despite the pounding in her head, and realized that there  _ was _ indeed someone lying on her chest. 

Narcissa was clutching onto her and seemed to be crying.

“I’m all right, Cissa,” mumbled Andromeda, clumsily reaching up to pat her little sister’s head.

Narcissa jolted up immediately, looking wide eyed and frightened. She stumbled off the bed and straight into Bellatrix who was standing behind her with a severe frown and worried eyes. 

“You’re awake!” Narcissa cried, wiping at her eyes. “I was in the entrance hall when that great brute came running in with you, bleeding everywhere. I thought he’d killed you!”

Andromeda shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, which turned out to be a mistake as her head  _ pounded _ . But as her memories came back to her, her stomach dropped and she wanted to be sick.

“The rumors are you were helping Professor Sprout when you were attacked,” Bellatrix said, looking over her sharply. “Some are even saying  _ you _ attacked her.”

“I-” Andromeda started, trying to gather her thoughts enough to give a coherent lie. 

“Oh, blessed Merlin,” Madame Pomfry cried, bustling over and rescuing her. “You’re awake. I patched you up - lord, I must have pulled a half a _tree_ from your back. But those wounds were easy enough to clean up. Head wounds are a much nastier lot. You’re likely to have quite the headache, Miss Black, and I’m afraid I’ll need to keep you overnight.”  
“But she’s okay, right?” Narcissa demanded fretfully, fingers pulling at the loose sheet over her sister.

“Yes, Miss Black,” Madame Pomfrey said, sounding a little exasperated. “She will be just fine. But she lost quite a bit of blood and she needs to rest.”

“Miss Blacks,” came another voice from behind her sisters, and Andromeda found herself starting to feel quite overwhelmed. 

“Professor McGonagall,” Bellatrix replied, lip curling as she turned to the transfiguration professor.

“Miss Black and, er, Miss Black,” McGonagall said, looking between the two with a tight-lipped expression. “All students have been instructed to return to their common room. You’ve seen that your sister is all right, but we must speak with her. In  _ private _ ,” she added severely when neither Narcissa or Bellatrix moved.

“Yes, Professor,” Bellatrix finally replied after a long pause, the tone almost mocking. “Come along, Cissa.”

She cast a meaningful look back at Andromeda then placed a hand on Narcissa’s shoulder and guided her from the Hospital Wing.

“Really, professor,” Pomfrey said, practically fuming. “I must insist Miss Black be allowed to rest.”

“And I am afraid that will  _ have _ to wait,” McGonagall said harshly. “Miss Andromeda Black is one of our only witnesses of a follower of … of the one calling himself  _ Voldemort _ … getting onto Hogwarts grounds. We must speak with her immediately so we can determine if the castle is  _ safe _ .”

Pomfrey fretted, argued, and the two went back and forth until it was agreed that they would elevate Andromeda’s bed and Madame Pomfrey would escort them to the Headmaster’s office and back. If Andromeda had the emotional space left to feel mortified, she would have been thanking every god there ever was that the students were all in their common rooms. As it was, her head was spinning - both as she tried to process all that had happened and due to the concussion she almost certainly had.

She was brought to the second floor and the stone gargoyle. McGonagall approached it, saying “Jelly slugs”, and it slid out of the way. The stairwell provided a new challenge for the procession. They had to magically secure her to the bed and then elevate up at an angle. (The embarrassment at this point was certainly strong enough to break through her fear.)

When they emerged in the headmaster’s office, Andromeda was immediately overwhelmed by the bright sunlight that came in through the window and refracted off the many shiny objects strewn about. It hurt her eyes and caused her head to pound until she found she had to look away. 

With the addition of McGonagall, Pomfrey, and Andromeda’s hospital bed, the room was feeling rather cramped. The office was already occupied by Dumbledore, Flitwick, Slughorn, Hagrid, and Sprout, who were all standing and looking at Andromeda with grave, serious expressions.

“Welcome, Miss Black,” Dumbledore said kindly. “I am glad to hear that you are in better condition. I appreciate your willingness to meet with us so soon. Perhaps we should all get comfortable?”

He gestured for Professor Sprout to take the seat in front of his desk and then, with a flick of his wand, caused five more chairs to appear - including one enormous one for Hagrid.

When all had been seated, each person still looking distinctly uncomfortable, Dumbledore finally took a seat behind his desk and looked through his half-moon spectacles at Andromeda, sitting awkwardly upright in her hospital bed.

“First, I want to inform you that Pollux Lestrange has been secured and is all right. The ministry has sent aurors to secure the castle and assess the situation, but they have been kind enough to allow us to speak first before they interview you themselves. I have already heard Professor Sprout and Hagrid’s account of the events this morning. Could you recount them for me, in your own words? Starting from your decision to leave the castle this morning, if you would.” He smiled warmly and steepled his fingers together on the desk in front of him, as if anticipating a delightful tale.

Andromeda, however, was resisting the urge to wring her hands together and avoid eye contact. Instead, she focused on looking only at Dumbledore and allowed her hands to fist underneath the sheets.

“Well, I was having breakfast with Camelia Fawley and Alder Prewett,” she explained, biting her lip at the memory that felt so far away now. “The owls arrived and I got the Daily Prophet. I was upset by… by the news and I was already stressed and distracted -”

“May I ask why?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

“It’s stupid,” Andromeda said, flushing. “I had dinner with Rodolphus on Saturday … but I bumped into Ted Tonks right before. He was giving Rodolphus a hard time, trying to make him jealous I think. I haven’t been able to see Rodolphus as much, given how busy we both are, so I was just worrying about that,” she finished lamely.

“Rodolphus Lestrange did not return to Hogwarts until after curfew, Miss Black,” said McGonagall sharply.

“Given the current situation, Minerva,” Dumbledore broke in softly, “I think we can overlook a lapse of curfew in this case. Go on, Miss Black.”

“I asked Cam to let Professor Slughorn know I wasn’t feeling well,” she said, casting an apologetic look towards the professor who smiled encouragingly. “I decided to go for a walk and ended up at the greenhouses - they always help me calm down and I’m working on an extra project for Professor Sprout and Professor Kettleburn.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Dumbledore, eyes sparkling. “It seems you’ve been doing an excellent job helping raise us our own wiggentree.”

She smiled at the praise and then looked down at her hands. “Professor Sprout found me in the greenhouses and assessed the wiggentree and said it should be ready to plant soon. She offered to let me come along and help find a good spot to plant it - it’s kind of complicated given the tree’s environmental needs and - sorry….” she broke off, flushing. “Not important.”

“We appreciate your enthusiasm for the subject,” he encouraged. “Go on.”

“Well,” said Andromeda uncertainly. “Then she wrote  _ you _ to let you know that we would be going. We went to meet Mr. Hagrid and he took us to the section of the forest we were in,” she explained and Hagrid seemed to flush at the respectful title. “Sprout and I split up, agreeing that we would signal white sparks if we found a spot and red sparks if there’s an emergency.”

She frowned, as if trying to remember. “I … I remember red sparks and running. Then I saw Sprout and Pollux and I just … I panicked. I’ve known Pollux since I was  _ born _ , sir,” she said earnestly. “I remember diving in to stop it. I think I may have used a protection spell? I’m not sure, it’s fuzzy. I got struck by something and the next thing I knew Pollux was unconscious, Sprout was helping me, and then Hagrid showed up. I think I passed out around then.”

“Foolish,  _ foolish _ girl,” McGonagall muttered. “Stepping into a duel. What were you  _ thinking _ ?”

“I imagine Miss Black was thinking that two people she cared for deeply were in danger and had the admirable, albeit,  _ misplaced _ , instinct to intercede,” Dumbledore said calmly. 

“Albus,” squeaked Flitwick, nervously looking between the headmaster and Andromeda. She was a star pupil at charms, but he had always kept Andromeda at arms length - undoubtedly due to Bellatrix’s reputation preceding her. “Surely, you understand how it looks. If we believe that Lestrange was attempting to smuggle something to conceal at Hogwarts, only to encounter Miss  _ Black _ of all people in the Forbidden Forest….” he broke off with an apologetic glance her way. She didn’t blame him. It  _ did _ look bad.

“Unless we are to believe that Miss Black has actually managed to become a seer in her divination studies,” said Dumbledore with a teasing smile her way, “I do not think it is possible to suppose she could predict her presence in the forest today.”

“Unless she had already been planning to head into the forest and the wiggentree provided a convenient excuse when offered,” McGonagall frowned, seeming much less apologetic. “I am sorry, sir. But a Death Eater found a way onto Hogwarts grounds and his future  _ daughter-in-law _ just so happens to be his reception in the Forest? Surely I am not the only one who finds this far fetched.”

“If it was their devious plan,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “It was certainly a poorly thought out one. Why did Miss Black do nothing to keep Pomona out of the forest? Why would she try to stop the duel, instead of stun Pomona herself and help her father-in-law accomplish his goals? No, I believe today’s events were quite a surprise to both of them; and likely gave him enough pause for Pomona to stun him herself.”

“I’m sorry,” Andromeda said, in barely above a whisper.

“It will be 200 points from Slytherin,” Dumbledore said gravely. “For reckless endangerment of yourself, endangering a Hogwarts Professor, and attempting to provide assistance, intentional or otherwise, to an outsider invading Hogwarts grounds. You will also receive detention until the end of the academic year.”

“I would also question if Miss Black should be prefect,” McGonagall said coolly.

“Minerva, be reasonable!” Slughorn cried. “It was a mistake! The man was practically family.”

“Miss Black will be on probation until the end of term,” Dumbledore compromised.

“Yes, sir,” Andromeda replied; flushed, staring at her hands, and hardly daring to believe they had done it. Hardly daring to believe that Dumbledore was helping her.

“Now if you will all excuse us, Auror Moody is here to take Miss Black’s statement,” Dumbledore said calmly. “As Miss Black is underage, I will be representing her during the interview, but otherwise it must be done privately.”

“Headmaster!” Madame Pomfrey cried. “I must insist! Miss Black has been seriously wounded today and is still suffering the effects of her head injury. She needs rest and medical supervision!”

“I am truly sorry, Poppy,” Dumbledore said with a serious frown. “But this is a matter of security for both our students and the Wizarding World. I would not ask you to delay her care for anything less. We will try to move quickly and allow her to rest as soon as possible.”

At his words, the healer tutted, grumbled, and re-tucked Andromeda’s sheets around her, but eventually departed with the other professors.

“If I may speak frankly, Miss Black,” Dumbledore gravely. “I understand this has been a very distressing day for you. I understand the reasons for your request for secrecy, but I must ask your permission to inform one more person. Auror Moody has agreed to publicly share your cover story, but must hear the full truth in order to investigate properly. I swear to you that I would trust him with my own life. I now hope that you are willing to trust him with yours.”

In any other situation, Andromeda would not. She had heard of Moody. His name was practically an unforgivable curse among the circles she moved in. She trusted him to do right by her almost as much as she trusted Dorcas Meadowes as her confidante. But what other choice did she have? She was already making a deal with Dumbledore for her own survival.

Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Join us, Alastor,” Dumbledore called and Andromeda jumped as a bookcase slid open to reveal an archway. Out of which, stepped the most grizzled man Andromeda had ever seen. Ragged scars tore across his face and he walked with a heavy limp. Sharp, dark eyes bore into Andromeda and gave her the peculiar sensation that he could see right through her. 

“You must forgive my friend,” Albus chuckled. “He does love a dramatic entrance.”

Scowling, the man stepped into the room and the bookshelf slid closed behind him. He remained standing, rather than taking a seat at any of the abandoned chairs.

“I hear you’re the one who brought down Pollux Lestrange today,” growled the man.

His statement caused Andromeda to flinch. “I didn’t know it was him.”

“Don’t feel bad for him girl,” Moody seemed to snarl. “You had reason not to know who he was. He certainly knew who  _ you _ were and was willing to go through you anyways.”

Andromeda bit her lip, staring down at the sheets in shame.

“It took a quick wand to do what you did.” Moody went on and she almost thought his growl had softened. “I know fully trained aurors who could not do what you did. Some of them only a few days ago, I suspect.”

This did nothing to make Andromeda feel better.

“Perhaps it is best we let you tell us what happened.” Dumbledore stepped in gently. “From the moment you and Professor Sprout arrived at the Forbidden Forest, if you would. Unless there is anything else you have to tell us from before?”

She thought about reading the article, the death of Septimus Weasley, cleaning away Rodolphus’s injuries, and her own suspicions about where he had been.

“No,” she lied. “That’s it.”


	8. Stone Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cygnus Black arrives at Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! This is a very short chapter, so it will be a double upload today. To anyone else facing the winter storms in the southern USA, you are in my thoughts and prayers. I hope you are staying warm and have plenty of water.

She finished recounting what happened in the forest and Dumbledore and Moody exchanged looks. 

“It seems to me this brings us no closer to understanding his aims here,” Dumbledore sighed. “Though we are relieved you made it through this encounter relatively unscathed.”

“Sir,” Andromeda frowned. “Flitwick said something earlier. About Pollux trying to hide something at Hogwarts?”

“Several things were missing from Septimus Weasley’s place when the aurors arrived,” Moody growled. “And if you want something to disappear, Hogwarts is the best place to do it.”

“Why wouldn’t they just vanish whatever it was then?” Andromeda asked, glancing between the two.

“Perhaps there were magical protections,” Dumbledore theorized lightly. “Perhaps they wanted to make use of it themselves at a later date. There are many things hidden within these walls, much of which I am sure I do not know.”

“What will happen to Pollux then?” She asked hesitantly.

“At the very least, he will be tried for illegal entry into Hogwarts grounds,” Dumbledore explained kindly. “As well as assault on a professor that resulted in an injured student. He will likely also be questioned about last Saturday’s events, but I suspect that will not go anywhere. His understanding of today’s events is quite hazy as well,” he added, eyes twinkling. “His file will attribute that to his head injury. That was quite an impressive memory charm, Miss Black.”

“Nonverbal magic as a fifth year too,” Moody grunted. “Good dueling instincts and strong observational skills too, to notice a disillusionment charm like that. Got any other talents?”

“Miss Black is also an excellent herbologist and potioneer,” Dumbledore put in, eyes twinkling.

“I’m rubbish at transfiguration though,” Andromeda added, flushed and unsure why she felt so uncomfortable at Dumbledore’s praise.

“Your marks would disagree,” Dumbledore pointed out.

“I work hard,” Andromeda admitted, tugging at the sheets with her twisting fingers. “It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“We can work with that,” Moody said, eying her critically. “You might make a fine auror, if you applied yourself.”

The idea was so absurd she made a choked sound that was almost a laugh. Shaking her head, she looked back at Dumbledore.

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand, sir,” she said hesitantly.

“Ask away,” he said kindly.

“Why are you helping me?” She asked, looking between the two. “You know who my family is. You know who I’m supposed to marry.”

“None of us choose the family we are born into, Miss Black,” Dumbledore sighed. “You have a difficult choice ahead of you, one I do not envy you nor would I dream of trying to make for you. Professor Sprout - among many others, I believe - think quite highly of you. We have our hopes, of course. But we would like to see you given the opportunity to choose for yourself.”

_ No, _ the faithful part of her said, banging against the constraints of her ribcage.  _ I don’t have a choice. I don’t want a choice. _

But she said nothing in reply.

“Now, Madame Pomfrey is correct that you are in need of rest,” Dumbledore went on. “We will meet to discuss your ‘punishment’ once you have been released from the Hospital Wing. I will send you an owl with-”

He was interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, looking grave and almost … harried?

“Albus, Cygnus Black is here and insisting he see you,” she said and the look she gave Andromeda was one of both disappointment and pity. Andromeda was surprised by how much that upset her. But that feeling was nowhere near as strong as her fear at McGonagall’s words.

“Send him up then,” Dumbledore said patiently.

Professor McGonagall looked like there was more she wanted to say, but instead she turned and retreated down the steps. A moment later she returned, this time followed by a very tall, thin wizard in fine velvet robes of deep green. His hair was dark and graying. He had Andromeda’s eyes and her fine nose. But he carried himself quite differently than she and his eyes barely stopped on his middle daughter, where she sat upright in a hospital bed in the headmaster’s office.

“Dumbledore,” he began stiffly. “I’ve been informed that you and Auror Moody have been holding and questioning my daughter, while she is incapacitated, without representation, and preventing her from receiving her medical care.”

“It is lovely to see you, Cygnus,” Dumbledore smiled calmly. “We have indeed been discussing today’s events with Miss Black, but I assure you her immediate medical needs have been met.”

Andromeda sat silently, waiting to be addressed and feeling very numb as she looked up at her father’s angry expression. He finally looked to her, seeming to assess her situation, and she nodded at him. He glanced back at Dumbledore.

“This situation is inexcusable,” he said coldly. “My child was assaulted at your school, in an altercation involving one of your staff. You had no right to question an underage witch without a guardian present.”

“My apologies, Cygnus,” Dumbledore said in a still unshaken voice. “We felt it necessary to address the immediate security threat on the castle. I’m sure you want us to ensure the safety of all our other students, as well.”

“The school governors will be hearing from us very soon,” Cygnus all but growled. “And in the meantime, I will be pulling Andromeda from Hogwarts so she may receive  _ appropriate _ medical attention from  _ real _ healers.”

“You bloody well will not,” Moody growled and Cygnus’s stone gray eyes fell on him. Andromeda had seen men buckle under that stare, but Moody seemed unfazed. “Andromeda Black is involved in an ongoing investigation and she will not leave this castle until I am satisfied that all my questions have been answered. The Hogwarts healer is more than capable of treating her and I doubt you want to see the headlines if I have to get a warrant to bring in one of your daughters.”

“It is not wise to threaten me, Alastor Moody,” Cygnus said through gritted teeth.

“And it is not wise to get in the way of me doing my job,” he growled in return. 

“You will not be questioning Andromeda any further,” Cygnus said firmly. “She will be escorted back to the Hospital Wing and no one involved in Magical Law Enforcement will be speaking to her without I or Druella present, or there will be hell to pay at the Ministry.”

“That is fair, Cygnus,” Dumbledore smiled, then looking at McGonagall, who still stood by the door with a sour expression, he nodded. “Minerva, would you be so kind as to alert Poppy that our patient is ready to return.”

“Certainly, Headmaster,” she said with one last cold stare at Andromeda’s father.

A moment later, their strange procession was returning to the Hospital Wing - this time with the stiff addition of Cygnus Black walking behind them. The castle halls were still blessedly empty and Andromeda guessed that most of the staff were searching the grounds for any other unexpected guests.

“Leave us,” Cygnus said simply once they arrived and Andromeda’s bed was back in place.

“Merlin’s beard!” Poppy half shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. “No consideration for …”

But she was clearly done fighting this fight, as she stormed back to her office. McGonagall might have put him in his place for his lack of manners, but Andromeda guessed she was quite eager to be out of the man’s presence. She swept from the Hospital Wing without another word. After the continuous chaos that had surrounded her since this morning, the silence of the Hospital Wing rang in her ears.

“What were you doing in the forest, Andromeda?” Cygnus asked, standing at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I had an independent study project for herbology,” she answered quietly. “I didn’t know anything was happening.”

“I was told you were injured trying to help Pollux when he was attacked by the staff member who found him,” he said and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, keeping her eyes respectfully downcast.

“You’re a foolish, foolish child,” he grumbled. “But your loyalty was in the right place. Say nothing to anyone who questions you. You were as confused and surprised as anyone else. We’ll consider starting you on duelling lessons, in case something like this ever happens again.”

She looked up at him in alarm and he snorted. “I understand you and Narcissa will not be taking the same role as your older sister. You both have carried yourself accordingly as Black daughters and I have confidence in the matches you will make. But the world is changing and Rodolphus should not have to worry that his wife will get herself hurt when his back is turned.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, feeling something strange in her chest. She wanted to feel pleased, proud like she had felt when Dumbledore praised her that morning, but instead she felt jittery and unsure.

“Your mother will write you closer to the holidays,” he finally said, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. “I must go. Remember what I’ve told you.”

“Yes, father,” she said obediently. 

This was as much of a goodbye as she was going to receive from him. He swept from the hospital wing and she finally laid down, staring at the ceiling above her like she expected it to have something to say to her as well. A few minutes later, she heard Pomfrey’s door open and she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

She heard the matron tutting and then the sound of the curtains being drawn closed around her. She was left in the silence of her thoughts and, despite having felt so overwhelmed, she thought maybe that was not a good place to be.


	9. Disreputable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda faces the consequences for the actions she did not take, learns of her 'punishments', and agrees to several disreputable things.

Andromeda had never been miserable at Hogwarts before. Occasionally, she might have arrived miserable or even been upset by something she heard. But never before had Andromeda ever found herself wishing for the end of term or fantasizing about running away from the castle.

As word of what happened (or at least the public version) spread, it took on a life of its own. Apparently, there were versions being passed around that claimed  _ she _ had attacked Professor Sprout herself. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor all regarded her as a traitor to the Castle. 

It would have been easier if they simply wanted to ostracise her, as she never spoke to anyone outside of Slytherin; but for Camelia and Alder. But open war had started in the castle and even the Hufflepuffs decided to join in. Professor Sprout was beloved by all, but it was commonly known she would be head of Hufflepuff when Professor Whitewater retired. She finally told Camelia and Alder that she would see them when it all blew over, but even they had been looking at her strangely since the day of the incident.

She had to be escorted to her classes if she didn’t want her bag to split or stray curses to hit her back; a duty which some of her housemates had taken up with gusto. But even half of the Slytherins had turned on Andromeda; not because of her supposed betrayal, but because of the 200 points she had lost them. Even the common room was less hospitable to her, as wherever she sat she could feel at least half a dozen open glares. 

But the worst reaction by far had been Rodolphus. Bellatrix and Narcissa had been the only two allowed to visit her in the Hospital Wing and Narcissa had told her, giggling, that Rodolphus spent half an hour pacing outside before Pomfrey threatened detention. When she was finally released the following day and returned to the common room, he had been waiting for her. He’d skipped his classes so he could be there when she finally returned. As soon as she stepped through the entrance, she found herself swept into his arms and held tightly to his chest. She’d teared up and he had been frantic that he might have hurt her or jostled any injuries.

“I’m fine,” she’d sniffed. “Your father…”

“I don’t give a damn about my father,” he said angrily, pulling her back into a tight embrace. “Thought I was losing my mind when I heard you were hurt. Almost broke down Dumbledore’s door when I heard Moody was questioning you.”

Rodolphus seemed to interpret her choking up as being upset by what had happened; which was far better than him guessing that she was suffocating on her guilt. He unknowingly made it worse, insisting on walking her to every class he could and checking on her throughout the day. He must have snuck off to Hogsmeade because he started showering her with gifts from Honeydukes and the new quills she had been admiring at Dervish and Banges. It did nothing to reduce the ire from the rest of the school, but it definitely succeeded in leaving Andromeda distraught. 

For better or worse, the story she and Sprout invented was bought, believed, and enhanced. Only one person seemed at all suspicious. Bellatrix, at first, seemed strangely quiet. Once she had been reassured twice that Andromeda had recovered, her critical eye began straying to Andromeda more and more. Though she was just as dedicated as Rodolphus in punishing the Gryffindors who turned her books to worms, she was equally as dogged in watching Andromeda and her actions.

“I never took Professor Sprout for much of a dueler,” she said casually, a few days after andromeda had been released. She was reviewing her charms homework from the couch by the fire and did not look up while she spoke. “I’m quite surprised that Pollux didn’t make easy work of her.”

“I imagine he made the same assumption as you, Bella,” said Andromeda, trying to keep her voice level. 

“Father wants you to learn to duel,” Bellatrix added, glancing up at her before looking back down. “Learn a few jinxes and curses. You shouldn’t have too much trouble. You’ve always had a good wand arm for charms.”

“Household charms are more my speciality,” Andromeda sighed. “I’ve never had your ambitions, Bella. But I’ll, of course, do as father wishes.”

“You hardly give yourself enough credit, Meda,” Bellatrix sighed, flipping a page in charms textbook. But she let the subject drop.

Thursday night at dinner, a great grey owl soared down to her spot at the Slytherin table; almost knocking a pitcher of pumpkin juice into Narcissa’s lap. Only Rodolphus’s quick hand rescued it, steadying it and watching curiously as Andromeda untied the note from the owl’s leg. It took off without waiting for a response.

Unfolding it, she saw it was short, simple, and written in a looping cursive. 

_ My office, 7pm this evening. _

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rodolphus asked with a frown.

“Dumbledore,” Andromeda explained quietly. “He told me he would owl me a time to meet and discuss my punishment.”

“Godric,” Rodolphus scowled. “I should think you’ve been punished enough.”

“Merlin’s beard, Rodolphus,” Bellatrix drawled. “Andromeda is lucky she wasn’t expelled or taken in for questioning by the aurors. Learn to count your blessings.”

Andromeda took Rodolphus’s hand and glanced at his watch, seeing it was only a little after six. 

“I think it is all mighty exciting,” said Narcissa, grinning a little mischievously.

“Have a little decorum, Cissy,” said Bellatrix, passing her a napkin and gesturing at the corner of her mouth. She took it, blushing and glancing at Lucius, who was working on his History of Magic essay a couple seats down. “Pollux is a friend of the family.”

“My father is an arse,” Rodolphus snorted. “Have as much fun as you would like at his expense, Narcissa.”

“Honestly, Rodolphus,” Bellatrix said, rolling her eyes. But Narcissa was giggling and even Bellatrix was trying not to smile. Only Andromeda seemed to still be struggling to find humor in the situation.

“Really, Andromeda,” he assured her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I appreciate that you wanted to help my family, but my father didn’t deserve it anyways.”

She pushed back from the table and pressed a hasty kiss to his cheek. “I want to swing by the library before I meet with Dumbledore. I’ll see you this evening.”

“You’ve got your patrol this evening as well, Meda,” Bellatrix reminded her. “You’re not getting out of it now that you’re on your feet again.

“Oh, Merlin,” groaned Andromeda. “You’re right, I forgot. As long as it isn’t with Dorcas Meadowes again.”

“No, but it might be just as bad,” Bellatrix said gravely, but she was smiling at her sister’s expense. “You’ve got McKinnon.”

“She’s that Gryffindor 6th year, isn’t she?” Andromeda frowned, hiking her bag over her shoulder, and Bellatrix nodded. “Godric’s sake, the Gryffindors hate me.”

“We can move you,” offered Rodolphus faithfully, frowning at Bellatrix.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised, pushing his hair back from his face. “I’m just whinging.”

“You’re hovering, Rodolphus,” said Bellatrix, wrinkling her nose.

“ _ I _ think it's sweet,” Narcissa sighed, staring after Lucius and accidentally putting her elbow in her plate of mutton.

“You missed the corner of your mouth with that napkin, Cissa,” said Andromeda and her sister snatched up the napkin again. “Yeah, you’ve got a bit of drool, right here,” she added, tapping the corner of her own lips.

Narcissa glared, though Bellatrix laughed. Rodolphus respectfully hid his own chuckle behind a cough.

Andromeda finally left, Rodolphus squeezing her hand as she walked away. Preoccupied with her own thoughts, she was not paying as much attention as she should have as she walked into the entrance hall. Consequently, she walked directly into something solid; sending her stumbling back. Two steady hands caught her, righting her before she could fall. She found herself looking up, for the third time, into a pair of bright blue eyes.

“All right there, Black?” Ted Tonks asked as casually as if the two were regular conversation partners.

“Just peachy,” she said under her breath, stepping away from him. 

“That’s good to hear,” he grinned. “I was thinking - ”

“Ted,” a voice called from behind Andromeda, interrupting whatever thought Ted was about to express.

She looked over her shoulder to see one of the Bones boys watching them with arms crossed and brow furrowed. “Everything all right?” He asked, but his cold eyes were on Andromeda.

“Just peachy,” said Ted, echoing Andromeda and shooting her a wink. 

“Excuse me,” she muttered and stepped around him, hurrying towards the dungeons. She had meant it when she told Rod she wanted to go by the library, but she found she now lacked the fortitude for tracking the texts she wanted from the shelves. 

She hadn’t thought about Ted much since she spoke to the professors and gave them a highly edited version of her encounter with the Hufflepuff boy. Between catching up on her assignments, Rodolphus’s desire to attach himself to her hip, and the antagonism of the rest of the castle, there hadn’t been much room to think of him. She assumed he would decide she was a traitor like the rest of the castle and that would be it. So what was that? Was he laughing at her? Was he planning some kind of trick?

She didn’t waste time when she passed through the Slytherin common room and dropped her things on her bed. Paisley, Marianne, and Norma had apparently decided to join the crowd that were blaming Andromeda for ruining their chances at the cup, so they did not even acknowledge her as she brushed past them. Andromeda couldn’t say she was too bothered; she had never been close to the three girls in her year anyways.

As she exited the common room again and began her trek up to the second floor, she realized she wasn’t sure about the password to Dumbledore’s office. Would it still be the same as it was before? Or would she have to knock on the griffin statue and pray Dumbledore either heard her or thought to check the corridor for her?

She was just working herself up into a real fret when she arrived and nervously said, “Jelly slugs?”

She needn’t have worried. The statue turned, revealing the spiral staircase up to the headmaster’s office. She took the stairs, slowing as she reached the top and began to worry now about what she would hear when she got there. What kind of ‘punishment’ would be reasonable for a fake crime? What would they ask of her?

She reached the top of the steps and, although this was not her first time in the room, it was her first time able to properly appreciate it. The evening light through the windows cast everything in a warm glow. All kinds of magical instruments covered every surface. She recognized a pensieve in one corner. A Phoenix rested on a stand in another. Along the wall were portraits of previous headmasters, dozing in their armchairs; she even recognized Phineas Nigellus Black from his portrait and Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, smiling patiently as she took it in. She realized her jaw had dropped and she closed her mouth, flushing red.

“I do so like my trinkets,” he said cheerfully. “Welcome back to my office, Miss Black. Have a seat.” 

She took the seat he gestured to on the other side of the desk and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for him to speak.

He waited a moment and Andromeda wondered if he was expecting her to say something. But he finally spoke first.

“How are you feeling, Miss Andromeda?” He asked earnestly. “I trust you have recovered well.”

“Yes, Professor,” Andromeda answered dutifully. “I’m fully recovered.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he said and looked her over through his half-moon spectacles. “You seem bothered, however.”

“It is nothing, Professor,” she said quickly.

“I do not believe it is, if it is bothering you,” he pointed out and waited for her to reply.

“I dislike lying,” she blurted out after a moment and blushed again. “Rodolphus has been so good to me, taking care of me since I got out of the hospital wing. But I’m lying to him. I attacked his father.”

“You defended yourself against his father,” Dumbledore corrected her patiently. “Do you think Rodolphus would hurt you if he knew the truth?”

“No!” She exclaimed quickly, then pulled back in her seat and clasped her hands together again. “I mean, no, sir. I don’t believe he would. But  _ he _ would be hurt, Professor. He is a good son. He would be upset and he would then have to lie to cover for me agai-” she cut herself off, feeling a fist tighten around her heart. “He would have to lie to cover for me,” she said, recovering poorly. 

“You were a hatstall, were you not, Miss Black?” asked Dumbledore and Andromeda frowned, wondering where the question came from.

“Yes, professor, I was,” she confirmed. It had been quite an upset too. Every Black that had ever attended Hogwarts had been a Slytherin. The hat had barely touched down upon Bellatrix and Narcissa’s heads when it declared them Slytherin. But the hat had taken quite a long time to decide with Andromeda.

_ There’s quite a lot here in this mind, _ she remembered it saying.  _ A fascinating read you are. You’ve your own mind, all right. You could do well in any house, Andromeda Black. I think I’d like to see what  _ you _ choose. _

In the end, it hadn’t been a choice. She told the hat she was Slytherin and it had sighed, then called it to the room. Her parents had been furious; they sent her an outraged owl expressing their disappointment the very next morning.

“I’ve often observed that Slytherin has quite a lot in common with Hufflepuff,” noted Dumbledore and Andromeda raised an eyebrow. She found it hard to believe. “Their strengths seem to pair quite well together, don’t you agree?” He asked, smiling. “Hard work and ambition. And I’ve personally found a strong sense of duty and loyalty often work hand in hand. I’ve always been surprised that the two houses aren’t closer.”

Andromeda supposed what he was saying was true, though she also remembered how many times she heard Slytherins sniggering about Hufflepuffs being a load of duffers.

“As it happens,” Dumbledore went on, “I had a very interesting Hufflepuff in my office just a little while ago. I believe you know him. Ted Tonks?” He observed her reaction, which was to stiffen in her seat, and he smiled. “In fact, he was in my office wanting to discuss  _ you _ , Miss Black. Quite affected he was. He wanted to give a character reference to help your case. He had quite the interesting perspective as well. He told me about a girl who would not let her family hurt a blind kitten and who was kind to house elves. Do you have any idea why he would do that?”

“No,” Andromeda said truthfully, stunned. That must have been where Tonks was coming from when she ran into him. But why would he do that? “He doesn’t know me. I’ve only met him twice.”

“You seem to leave an impression on people, Miss Black,” he said, steepling his fingers. “As I told you just the other day, there are many who think highly of you.”

“He’s a fool, then,” she said stubbornly. “He knows the family I belong to.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore conceded mildly. “But I suppose we should discuss why you are here. As to the matter of your ‘punishment’.” She sat up straighter in her seat. “I’m afraid it will be necessary to maintain some level of appearances, so there will be two punishments. The first is actually something I would request your assistance in.”

Andromeda blinked, unable to fathom the kind of assistance a wizard like Dumbledore could need from her.

“I am afraid I have recently had to ask a rather impossible task of Professor Sprout,” admitted Dumbledore with a sigh. “We have received some news and we will need to have a fully grown whomping willow to cover a particular, ah,  _ security _ breach before the start of the 71-72 school year.”

Andromeda, again, blinked. “Sir, that is a year and a half from now. How on earth do you plan on moving a tree of that kind onto the grounds?”

“I don’t,” he said seriously. “Whomping willows are an endangered species. I have only just been able to procure access to a sprout.”

“You’re kidding,” Andromeda blurted.

“I am deadly serious, Miss Black,” he said, though there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. “I understand what I am asking. The tree will require daily magical intervention to be able to both grow and survive at the rate it will need to. It will take dedicated and highly skilled herbologists. But I believe you and Professor Sprout are up for the task. I have already discussed this with her and the two of you will work out shifts as the tree grows. This is, of course, a request and not a demand. I understand you have quite a lot on your plate, and we could always coordinate a regular detention.”

“I’m in,” she said quickly. “It’s madness, just madness. But I’m in.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore smiled. “This will be your N.E.W.T. project for Herbology, so do not fear about having to maintain several projects once the wiggentree has been planted.”

There was the catch, Andromeda realized. As this was her ‘punishment’, she would have no choice but to continue herbology regardless of the opinions of her family. 

“What is the other punishment, professor?” Andromeda asked, remembering his earlier statement with a frown. 

“Ah, that one is a suggestion for Alastor Moody,” Dumbledore said lightly. “But one I highly suggest you take advantage of. I have discussed it with our Defense professor and he has agreed to train you in occlumency. He has not been made aware of the full situation, but has been told that you will be ‘helping them grade’ should anyone ask.”

“Occlumency,” Andromeda said slowly. “The act of closing one’s mind.”

“Alastor believes, and I agree, that you would find it a beneficial skill,” Dumbledore explained patiently.

It had never been explicitly said that Andromeda and her sisters were forbidden to study it. But it had been mentioned on occasion, when her parents were in conversation with each other, that it was an disreputable interest for a pureblood witch to pursue. What proper witch would need to close their mind from their family or their spouse? The idea itself implied they had stepped out of line and needed proper guidance.

But Andromeda had certainly stepped out of line and this was not an instance where she could turn to them for guidance. 

“Okay, professor,” she said at last. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Discuss both ‘punishments’ with your professors after your next class with them,” Dumbledore instructed, but smiled. “I believe they will both be happy to hear your answer.”

“Is there anything else, Professor?” She asked, noticing that the lamps around the room had flickered on as the sunlight faded from the room.

“That should be all, Miss Black,” he said. “Unless you have something you wish to discuss with me?” He let the question hang lightly in the air between them.

“No, sir,” she said, perhaps too quickly.

“Then that will be all,” he confirmed. “Have a good rest of your evening, Miss Black.”

“You as well, Professor,” she said, rising from her chair and hurrying from his office into the quiet of the corridor.

Her face felt hot and her pulse was racing. She felt like she had just run a race and adrenaline was pounding in her blood. She never had any intention of rebelling against her family’s wishes, yet here she was. One after another, things kept falling away from her. Pollux, Herbology, occlumency. What possibly would spin away from her next?

Too jittery to return to the common room before her patrol and feeling she’d already agreed to breaking this unspoken rule, she took the stairs towards the library. It was still an hour before curfew, but the corridors were mostly empty. Most students had become more cautious since Pollux had been captured. Even the library had only a handful of N.E.W.T. students and a harried looking third year frantically looking through a potions text.

Madame Pince, the recently hired librarian, glared down her nose at Andromeda. She nodded respectfully and the woman huffed and turned away. Andromeda wasn’t entirely sure why she had taken the job, considering how much she seemed to hate children. 

It would be quicker to ask where in the library she’d find the subject, but she wasn’t quite that daring yet. Regardless, she was familiar enough with the library to make her own way. A little deductive reasoning, a little trial and error, and she finally found her way to the correct section with another half hour before Pince would be chasing her out. She pulled out a book at random, flipping through it.

“Well, hello there, Black.” said a voice at Andromeda’s shoulder, causing her to flinch and jump nearly a foot in the air. The book she was holding fell to the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.

“Sorry.” Ted Tonks grinned as she whirled to face him. He knelt down, picking up the book she had been perusing. “The Act of Emptying Ourselves: ancient practices of occlumency,” he read, then looked up at her with a teasing smile. “Do you have secrets you’re looking to hide, Andromeda Black?”

Madame Pince stuck her head from around the nearest shelf, already scowling and preparing to scold them.

“I’m sorry, Madame,” Ted Tonks called in a whisper. “My fault. Won’t happen again.”

She was still scowling, but she stalked away without reproaching them. Ted turned back to her with his smile still in place.

“If I did I would hardly be sharing them with you, Ted Tonks,” she said, snatching the book back and holding it tightly to her chest. Saying his name almost sent a shiver down her spine as she felt another one of those rules spiraling. 

“Ah, so she does know my name,” Ted grinned triumphantly and Andromeda rolled her eyes, turning back to the shelf.

“What do you want, Tonks?” She asked, ignoring the questions currently running circles in her head.

_ Why did you go to Dumbledore? What did you say? Who  _ are _ you? _ She thought as she pretended to read the titles in front of her.

“I wanted to ask if you were okay,” he said seriously and she turned again, confusion overtaking her.

“What?” She asked, feeling stupid.

“I wanted to ask if you were okay,” he said again, lips twitching as he tried not to smile. “I believe that is generally what people ask when someone has been hurt recently.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, staring at him like he had grown a second head. “Why on earth are you talking to me? I thought Hufflepuffs were wanting to put my head on a platter.”

“I march to the beat of my own drum, Black,” he said cheerfully. “I do things my own way.”

“That makes me feel like this is a trap,” she said dryly and he tossed his head back and laughed.

“Be quiet!” She hissed, hitting his shoulder with his book. But it was too late, Madame Pince had returned.

“If you two think this is social hour…” she hissed, looking like she was gearing up to throw them out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was me again,” he said quickly and quietly. “I’ll be leaving in just a moment, I promise.”

“You’re going to get me kicked out,” she scowled at him.

“We can’t have that, Miss Prefect,” he said, grinning again.

“I’m on probation.” She frowned, pulling out another book at random.

“Why?” He asked and she heard the frown in his voice. She kept her eyes down and flipped open the front cover of the book, not taking in any of it.

“Haven’t you heard?” She asked archly. “I’m the Hogwarts traitor.”

“I heard,” he said amiably, if a little cautiously. “I’ve heard several accounts ranging from you attacking Professor Sprout to you attempting to summon Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. There’s just one version I haven’t heard yet.”

“And what would that be?” she asked idly, grabbing a couple more at random and figuring she could peruse them later. She started towards the history section and heard Tonks following along after her.

“Yours,” he said and she paused, causing him to bump into her. She hurriedly stepped forward, away from him, and found the section on troll history.

“I’ve nothing to say,” she mumbled, trying to focus on finding the most boring title she could.

“Now  _ that _ I find hard to believe,” he said, watching her as she passed over several options until she found one she liked, nodded, and placed it on the top of her stack. 

“Believe what you like,” she said a little coldly, stepping around him to leave the shelves. 

He followed her past the tables where a few 7th years were hurriedly flipping through pages before the library closed. He didn’t say anything, clearly mindful of Pince who was still watching with narrowed eyes.

Unfortunately, Ted’s eyes were on Andromeda and not where he stepped. He knocked into a chair, tipping it into another and knocking a stack of books left there flying. Andromeda flinched, shoulders flying to her ears at the crashing sounds behind her.

“Sorry!” Ted was whispering but it was far too late.

“Out!” Madame Pince shrieked, jumping to her feet and brandishing her wand. 

“Oh, shite, run!” Ted said behind her, then grabbed her arm and pulled her at a sprint from the library. Something hard began hitting her over the back of her head as Ted tore through the library doors. It followed them all the way down the corridor and around the corner, beating them over their shoulders and head.

They slowed when it stopped, Andromeda bending over and gasping for breath. She looked behind them to see the books Ted had knocked over fluttering back to the library now that they had finished their task.

“Ted Tonks,” she hissed through her gasping breaths. “You are a  _ menace _ !”

Ted, not winded at all, looked a little frantic as he pulled her up. He was glancing back and forth between her eyes, frowning. The hand that wasn’t currently holding onto her forearm was fluttering uncertainly beside her head.

“Your head,” he said nervously. “Is your head okay.”

“My head is fine.” She snorted, pushing him back from her. “You  _ dolt _ .”

It took him another second to believe her, but slowly his concerned frown melted into a grin and then, of all things, he began to laugh.

“What are you doing?” She demanded, but he was shaking his head and unable to speak through his laughter. “Stop laughing!” She demanded, trying to stay severe even as she herself felt herself trying not to smile. “I  _ told _ you I’m on  _ probation _ .”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say because now he was positively howling before then she made a strange choked sound as  _ she _ tried not to laugh. This was apparently too much for him, because he had to lean against the wall for support.

“And you, Andromeda Black,” he gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, “are a riot.”

She flushed, unsure if she should be offended, but increasingly aware that they stood in a public corridor fifteen minutes before curfew. 

“I have to go,” she muttered, turning on her heel and marching for the stairs down to the dungeons. He did not seem to follow her, though she realized they were heading the same direction.

She didn’t spend long in the common room, wanting to head straight to her dorm to drop off her books before patrol. She passed by Bellatrix, who was studying with some girls in her year. She greeted Andromeda as she passed and plucked the top book off her stack.

“Social Norms of Early British Troll Colonies,” she read, wrinkling her nose. “Sounds like you’ve had a boring night.”

“Yeah,” said Andromeda, taking the book back. “Sounds about right.”


	10. Deprimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda discusses her detentions with the Defense professor and shares another encounter she shouldn't.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had never been a popular class since Andromeda had arrived at Hogwarts. Professor Bellchant retired at the end of Andromeda’s second year at the ripe old age of a hundred-and-twelve. As a professor, he possessed the remarkable ability to make dark creatures and tales of daring duels sound as dull as watching paint dry. They’d had several substitutes in her third year as Dumbledore scrounged for a replacement. Fourth year saw Professor Morgan, who retired from her career as an auror in 1903 and spoke so quietly no one understood her. She left at the end of the year when a group of third years set off fireworks during class; causing a longcoming mental breakdown.

All that changed when Professor Longbottom came at Hogwarts. Professor Frank Longbottom was young, fresh out of auror training, and there as a personal favor to Albus Dumbledore, himself. He had half the student body in love with him by the end of first week. It was a hopeless love, given that he was absolutely besotted with his fiance; but such lovelorn students coped quite well once they realized they could distract him for the last five minutes of class if they asked after Alice.

He was an excellent professor and enthusiastic about his subject. Almost every class had them out of their seats, wands drawn, and learning by doing. Andromeda was almost jealous of Narcissa’s stories of third year’s dangerous creatures segment, but she had little to complain about in her own courses. Their first class had been on the hex-deflection spell and they spent it alternating between practicing the spell and using the tickling hex on their peers. Andromeda could scarcely remember having more fun in a class.

Bellatrix _detested_ him, however, remembering when he had been head boy in Bellatrix’s third year and Andromeda’s first. She assured Andromeda he had been a bitter blood traitor even then, though Andromeda had only a vague memory of a kind-faced head boy helping her find a book she needed in the library. But even Narcissa quietly admitted to Andromeda that she enjoyed his class and secretly thought Professor Longbottom _almost_ as handsome as Lucius Malfoy. Andromeda promised to keep her secret.

But that particular day, Andromeda could hardly focus - which was an absolute shame, as Professor Longbottom had them out on the grounds practicing the _Deprimo_ spell. This was a problem both because it was a very interesting spell and also because Andromeda kept getting hit by falling debris in her distraction. Paisley Parkinson sniggered when a chunk of sod landed squarely on the top of her head, causing dirt and grass to crumble into her robes.

Taking a deep breath to avoid losing her temper, Andromeda vanished the dirt and jabbed her wand downwards, focusing hard on the incantation. Apparently she hadn’t controlled her temper quite as well as she hoped, because the ground exploded with a particular violence; knocking back Andromeda, Paisley, and several other Slytherins who stood too close.

“There! Miss Black has it!” Professor Longbottom cheered, though she could not see him through the showers of dirt around them. “Blimey, that one had some force. 5 points to Slytherin.”

Paisley shot Andromeda a glare, but said nothing. The Parkinson family was not in the same class as the Blacks. She wouldn’t do anything to antagonizing her. Andromeda ignored her, brushing off a clump of dirt from the sleeve of her robes.

Lucius Malfoy sidled up beside her, stepping around the sizable crater in front of her.

“Working out some anger there, Black?” He asked dryly.

“Whatever could you mean?” Andromeda asked in the same deadpan tone, pointing her wand and exploding another crater in the earth near where Marianne Travers and Norma Yaxley were giggling.

“Rosier and I are meeting your sisters at the Black Lake after,” he mentioned, blasting a crater next to hers with a muttered _deprimo_. “Are you coming?”

“I might meet you there,” she said evasively, twirling her wand and stepping out of the way of a falling clump. “I’m supposed to meet with Professor Longbottom after class. He’s doing my detentions.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re in a mood,” Lucius snorted. “Bellatrix won’t be happy.”

“She already wrote Mother to get her to talk to Dumbledore,” Andromeda said exasperatedly. “Said I should be having my detentions with Slughorn.”

“No luck then?” He asked, pointing his wand up with a muttered, “ _Reducto_.” The particular heavy chunks above them exploded into fine dirt and showered down on the students around them, but left them clean. 

“Nice wand work there, Malfoy,” Longbottom called cheerfully as he doused a fire accidentally set by an embarrassed looking Ravenclaw. “Have another five points.”

“Mother told Bellatrix that I need to go without complaining,” she said quietly, glancing around to assure herself that no one else was listening. “She also advised that we keep ourselves very quiet for the next few weeks.”

“Oh, I bet your sister loved that,” droned Lucius, grabbing her forearm and pulling her backwards to avoid a poorly aimed crater that blasted open in front of them.

“You have no idea,” she said, vanishing the following shower of dirt.

“Okay, class!” Longbottom shouted and it took him a couple tries before everyone heard him over the cries of _deprimo_ and small explosions. “Good work today. Everyone made solid progress. If you were unable to complete a full deprimo charm, please have eight inches on its theory and application on my desk by the start of next class. Oh!” He said as an afterthought. “And if any of you have a class indoors after this, I suggest coming to me for a cleaning spell so Pringle doesn’t tan my hide. Otherwise, have a good rest of your day. Class dismissed.”

He clapped his hands and carefully hopped over one of the smaller craters to assist a group of complaining Ravenclaws. Andromeda shuffled in place, feeling very awkward waiting there. Lucius shot her a pitying look and left her side for where Evan Rosier was waiting to head towards the lake. 

Figuring she should make herself useful while she waited, she used her wand to lift piles of dirt and sod back into the holes, blasting some of the thicker chunks into finer dirt. Magically smoothing over the holes as she filled them was at least quite soothing, even if the dirt patches were a little unsightly.

“Nice wandwork today, Black,” said Longbottom kindly, approaching her once the rest of the class had finally departed. “I believe Dumbledore explained the situation to us both?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded. “I appreciate your time.”

“Do Thursday evenings at 6pm work for you?” He asked and she nodded. “Good. How long we go will largely be dependent on you, but I will not keep you longer than an hour. I may not know the circumstances that make this necessary, but I will promise to respect your privacy so long as you promise to work hard and do your best. Is that fair?”

“Yes, Professor,” said Andromeda, nodding again. 

“Are you headed back to the castle?” He asked, smiling now and the seriousness of the moment easily falling away.

“No, sir,” she said, looking towards where she could see the greenhouses in the distance. “I need to go refresh the wiggentree’s charms.”

“Ah, yes, I heard you were a prodigious herbologist,” he smiled. “And enough with ‘sir’. I’m not ready to be old yet.”

“Yes, si- professor,” she corrected herself.

“That’s better,” he said, shaking off some of the dirt still on his robes. “Well, I’m off then. I’ll see you Thursday evening.”

“Have a good day, professor,” she waved and he set off with a wave of his own.

The greenhouses were blessedly empty, being a friday afternoon when most of the classes were finished for the week. It was an unseasonably warm day, despite how close it was to the start of October. The walk to the greenhouses had been noisier than usual, with many students celebrating the weekend early on the Hogwarts lawn. The sunlight in Greenhouse Three occasionally flickered with the shadows of students on broomsticks flying overhead.

Donning gloves, she first moved to the venomous tentacula, curious as to how the plants were doing under the care of the older students. She distracted them with the fingers of one hand, letting their vines pull and tug at them, while she checked their teeth and dropped in a few mice as treats. She then found herself moving through the other plants of the greenhouse, checking them, and watering or feeding as needed. She didn’t know exactly why she was putting off the wiggentree. It wasn’t so she could avoid thinking about recent events, given that they were all she could think about anyway.

Eventually it could be put off no longer. She crossed the room to pull down the heavy pot and begin her examination. The windows on this side overlooked the quidditch pitch in the distance, where she thought she could see some kind of game going on. She hadn’t attended a quidditch game in awhile. Rabastan and Lucius flew for the house team and she tried to get out for their important games, but she had never been fond of being so high up in the stands.

The wiggentree had grown considerably in the little time since their eventful day in the forest. She wouldn’t be able to place it back on the shelf, as by tomorrow it would likely be touching the ceiling. It was starting to grow in bark, which was the right color and texture to suggest good health. She did a few spells to check the soil, took a few measurements to put down on her charts, and was just measuring out the water when another shadow passed over her - this time lower than before.

She heard sounds outside, voices calling down, and then a clearer one shouting back.

“I’ll just be a little while! You all go on.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. She was gripping the edge of the worktable in front of her quite hard when the sound of the door opening followed the shout. Already knowing what she would find, she turned around and went still.

Ted Tonks stood smiling in the open door, just as she knew he would be. But she had never before seen him in sunlight. Not up close. Not really. He wore muggle clothes - jeans and a simple long sleeved white shirt. It was the sort of thing that Bellatrix would disdain for being terribly common, but Andromeda found it looked quite nice on him. It brought out the warmth of his tan and the slight sunburn on his neck. He held a broomstick in his left hand and his blond hair was mussed from the wind. It almost looked like it had a little strawberry to it with the way it caught the light. For the first time, she realized he had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose - from so much time flying in the sun, perhaps?

She realized she must be staring and fervently hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“What are you doing here, Ted Tonks?” She asked coolly. 

“I thought I saw you through the greenhouse windows,” he smiled, walking towards her and setting the broom on one of the unused tables. “I was curious what you were doing.”

He curiously reached out for a fanged geranium potted nearby and she smacked his hand down just in time, as it opened its jaws and snapped at where his fingers had been.

“Stop that, half the plants in here are teething,” she scolded and he laughed.

“Sorry, I’ve never quite gotten the hang of herbology,” said Tonks, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “So what are you doing?” He asked, curiously examining the plant before her though this time he kept his hands to himself. “This one doesn’t look like it has teeth.”

“That’s because it doesn’t,” said Andromeda, a little exasperated, finally measuring out the water and carefully spreading it over the soil. “It’s a wiggentree for Professor Kettleburn’s class; so they can study a bowtruckle colony.”

“It looks like a regular tree,” he observed, leaning in a little closer. “Why is Kettleburn not planting it himself?”

“They’re quite fragile until they have bowtruckles caring for them,” she explained, losing some of the coldness in her voice in spite of herself. “I have to renew the charms frequently and they’re quite finicky plants beyond that. Especially since we’re trying to expedite its growth so the fifth years will have it in the spring.”

“Sprout must trust you a lot then,” he observed, looking at her with an unusually serious look in his eyes. “To put the wiggentree in your hands.”

The light blue of his eyes weren’t completely blue, she realized. There was a little ring of gold, right around the iris.

She looked down at the wiggentree, focusing on renewing the various charms for the plant.

“I’m a good student,” she said a little dismissively. “She trusts my work. And you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why’s that?” He asked and even though she wasn’t looking, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Students aren’t allowed in greenhouse three unsupervised,” she explained, lifting the pot and looking for a better place to keep it. “And it's not a good idea besides.”

“You’re here,” he pointed out. “And I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Perhaps it was the warm day and bright sunlight getting to her head, but it felt like there was another layer to his words. There had certainly been another to hers. She found a sunny space near the corner that lacked anything venomous or fanged, then carefully positioned the pot so no careless third year would knock into it.

“I have permission,” she said, repeating a few of her soil checks to prolong her excuses to avoid him. “And I wasn’t talking about the flowers.”

“You’re supervising me then,” he pointed out and she didn’t have a good answer to that. “And what, will your sister be upset with me?” He said it in a teasing voice but the thought of what Bellatrix would do if she knew a muggleborn boy kept talking to her … the sunlight suddenly felt quite cold.

“Yes, and she’s got quite a foul temper,” Andromeda said firmly, wand clenched in her hand but not turning around.

“I’m not afraid of Bellatrix Black,” he laughed.

“Then you are a fool, Ted Tonks,” she said fiercely, finally turning on her heel and he at last seemed alarmed by the severity of her expression. “You’re playing with fire and expecting it to work like exploding snap. What is it you want from me?”

“Nothing,” said Tonks in a tone of genuine surprise. “You’re an enigma, Andromeda Black. I find I’d like to be friends with you. But there is nothing I want from you.”

The words, in a different tone, could have been quite harsh. But in Ted Tonks’ soft baritone, they were gentle. It was a strange thought, meeting someone who wanted nothing from her - not her name, not her wealth, not her power. But Ted Tonks did not grasp that even if he did not want anything, he was still asking far, far too much of her.

“Go back to your friends, Ted Tonks,” she said in a tired voice, moving to the bag she left on Sprout’s table. “I’m not a good friend for you.”

“And if I don’t care?” He challenged, but he sounded a little farther away now; like he hadn’t moved from his spot to follow her.

“I do. I’m not even supposed to be speaking with you,” she said, summoning her charts from where she had left them and sliding them into her bag. 

“Why does your family get to decide who you speak to?” He asked.

She thought about her answer for a long moment. There was of course the one she knew she was supposed to say, the one that would drive Ted Tonks away once and for all. _We do not consort with mudbloods_ , Druella’s disdainful voice said in her thoughts. There was the neutral answer that _they only want what’s best for me and I am a faithful daughter._ But she thought about everything she thought and felt since another sunny day on a Paris street and she thought of the smattering of freckles on Ted Tonks’ nose. So she settled upon the honest answer.

“Because as long as I do as my parents tell me, I get to keep my sisters,” said Andromeda, pulling the bag over her shoulder. She left Ted Tonks standing alone in the middle of a sun-filled greenhouse.


	11. Forthcoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda attends her first occlumency lesson and shares memories she would rather forget.

Andromeda didn't wait to see if anyone else lingered in the halls on Thursday evening. Instead, she took a passageway up to the second floor, hidden by a tapestry of an elderly monk. A Gryffindor transfigured her bag into an enormous spider earlier in the day and Rodolphus responded with the sea urchin jinx, putting both the Gryffindor and two of his friends in the Hospital Wing. She hadn’t been fussed about the spider, but Rodolphus had landed himself in detention and Andromeda found herself not eager to antagonize anyone else. 

Given that most students were either at dinner or in their common rooms, the corridor outside the Defense classroom was deserted when Andromeda stepped out from behind a suit of armor. She was grateful, even with her detention excuse ready at hand. Cautiously knocking, she pushed open the door to the classroom as she found it unlocked.

Stepping inside, she found that the desks and chairs at the front of the room had been pushed aside. Only one chair remained in front of Professor Longbottom’s desk and the desk had been cleared of everything but a plate of sandwiches, a flagon of pumpkin juice, and two cups. Professor Longbottom stood a few feet away, perusing a book until he heard her arrive.

“Ah, Miss Black, welcome,” he smiled, looking up and sending the book whizzing back to the shelf with a wave of his wand. “You’re early, that’s good. Help yourself to a sandwich, I understand we’re meeting during dinner.”

Cautiously, she approached the desk the way one might approach an aggressive dog. But neither the desk nor the plate of sandwiches bit. She took one and sat in the chair she assumed was hers. 

Professor Longbottom returned to the desk, poured himself a glass, and then took a seat himself. “How familiar are you with the subject of occlumency?” He asked.

“I’ve been doing some reading recently,” said Andromeda cautiously. “It is a discouraged subject for witches in my family.”

He rose an eyebrow at that, but didn’t press further.

“Well, as you might have learned in your reading,” he began patiently, “this will be a different kind of magic than you are likely used to. Honestly, it is one _I_ have struggled to gain mastery of; though I’ve studied it in auror training. It will be a matter of discipline; of your mind and of your emotions. It will be a difficult task and the practice will very possibly be unpleasant. I’m afraid I will have to invade some of your privacy, but I can promise you that nothing I see will ever leave this room.”

Her sandwich turned to dust in her mouth and she struggled to swallow. Professor Longbottom went on.

“A skilled legilimens may access a person’s feelings and memories,” explained Longbottom, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “It is less like reading a mind, as some have described it, and more the act of interpreting what you find. One can detect if someone is lying by the way their feelings and memories contradict their words; or even gain a general understanding of one’s thoughts. Some can even influence others. A far better legilimens than I is able to do it nonverbally and wandlessly,” said the professor, smiling wryly. “I will be relying upon a spell.”

“So… so what do I do?” Andromeda asked, lowering the remains of her sandwich.

“It is your job to focus,” he clarified. “You will need to empty yourself of your thoughts and your emotions and push me out.”

She finished her sandwich, vanished the crumbs, and took a shaky breath. “When do we start?”

“I was going to suggest we go over some of the theory,” he began thoughtfully. “But it sounds as if you have been doing that yourself. Am I correct?”

She nodded. 

“Then we begin whenever you’re ready,” he said, getting to his feet. “You may sit or stand. I will be accessing memories that have strong emotional resonance, which you will have to then overcome in order to force me out.”

Andromeda stood, feeling shaky and nervous, and took a deep breath to steady herself. This was doable. Emptying herself was how she survived for so long.

“I’m ready,” she said firmly and Professor Longbottom smiled encouragingly.

“ _Legilimens_ ,” he said and Andromeda was gone.

She was six years old, trembling in the wardrobe her mother used to lock her in for speaking out of turn. It was her father’s Christmas party and Rodolphus was back from his first term at Hogwarts. She was so happy he still let her hold onto the back of his robes. No, it was just after Christmas in 1965 and she was screaming. Her father was using the cruciatus curse. She knocked away his wand when he tried to kill her cat.

 _No,_ she thought. _It wasn’t real. She wasn’t in pain or afraid. She was in the Defense classroom._

“Good,” she vaguely heard someone say.

 _Let it all go_ , she told herself.

The memories flashing behind her eyes were hazier, indistinct; flashes of feeling and color.

But then she smelled the freesia and macarons of Place Cachée and suddenly it was the summer of 1968 and she was _happy_ like she had never felt before. The sunlight was warm and she was _kissing_ her and she still tasted like honey; like the muggle chapstick she always wore and - 

_No!_ The voice in her head screamed. _No one can know, no one can know._

The feeling of the collar of Roseline’s muggle dress was interrupted by a sharp pain in her knees.

She wasn’t in France. She had fallen to her knees in front of Professor Longbottom who stood in front of her, looking shell shocked.

She was breathing hard. He recovered first.

“That was - that was good,” he said encouragingly, even though he was fighting to keep the surprise out of his voice. She got shakily to her feet, ignoring the stinging in her knees. “You almost successfully pushed me out there. Shocking your body out of the memory is also effective, though less reliable.

“Give me a minute and let’s go again,” croaked Andromeda. She could do this. She’d been doing this for years. _Let it go. Empty yourself_.

“We don’t have to,” said Longbottom cautiously. “We can be done for the night. You’ve already made more progress than we could have expected.”

“No, I can do this,” she said firmly, taking in one more shaking breath and calming herself. She focused on the stinging skin of her knees, cutting away the strings that attached herself to her memories. “Do it again.”

He looked reluctant at first, but he raised his wand. “ _Legilimens_.”

It was Narcissa climbing into her bed when she had a nightmare while Andromeda whispered her stories until she fell asleep. Then the shadows of Place Cachée as she told Rosaline she was choosing her sisters. Rodolphus was in her room, having found Roseline's letterl.

 _No_ , she thought. _No_. 

It was only the smell of Rodolphus’s cologne. It was the feeling of Bellatrix’s hand in hers the first time she stood on the Hogwarts Express. It was dark, just dark.

 _Cut the strings,_ thought Andromeda. _You are Andromeda Black_.

Just flashes now. Color. Smells. Sensations. 

Hot chocolate. The taste of hot chocolate. She was in the kitchens now, with the boy, Ted Tonks, on New Years Day and she had never felt safe like this before. Not without Bella or Rod beside her. She was in the greenhouse, in the sunlight. She could count the freckles on his nose. He felt safe.

 _No,_ she thought again. _He_ wasn’t _safe. Something else, something else_.

It was Alder Prewett, admitting he didn’t want to be called Anne anymore. It was Camelia snorting pumpkin juice out her nose over a bad joke.

 _Farther_ , she thought. _Cut the strings again_.

The Sorting Hat. It was telling her she’d make a fine Hufflepuff, perhaps even the gall for Gryffindor. 

Cold like the dungeons. Cold like the water of the Black Lake. The sensation of dirt under her hands. Green. The wiggentree. The tree exploding at her back. Blood. Hearing the start of the killing curse and shooting her own curses blindly. Seeing Pollux’s face. Screaming. Terror. Blood. Professor Sprout.

Gritting her teeth, she _pulled_ and she was in the greenhouse on any possible evening; repotting besides Professor Sprout. The smell of dragon dung. Soil. Cool earth. Cold.

She was in the Defense classroom and Professor Longbottom was lowering his wand.

“That was good,” he said roughly. “You were able to push me away from memories you didn’t want me to see and send me into others. You came close to pushing me out entirely several times.”

“What can I do better?” She asked, fists clenched at her side.

“Practice calming yourself throughout the day,” he said, ruffling his hair and looking a little distracted. “At night, spend ten minutes before bed focusing on your breathing and trying to empty your mind.”

“Thank you, professor,” said Andromeda. She glanced at the clock and blinked in surprise. It was a couple minutes after seven.

He followed her gaze and smiled slightly. “Yes, it is difficult to sense time passing under the legilimens spell. But really, Miss Black,” said Longbottom seriously, “you are doing very well.”

“Thank you,” she said again, looking down. “I’ll see you in class then.”

“Yes,” said the professor, sounding far away again. “Have a good evening.”

She left Professor Longbottom standing by his desk, staring at his wand like it would offer him answers.


	12. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of letters sent by various persons since the start of term.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do a double upload since both this and the last chapter are on the shorter end! I'm hoping to get the next chapter of TFR up soon as well as to start replying to comments. I've been a little under the weather, but fortunately BWT is written pretty far ahead.   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! It is different than my usual style, so I'm interested in what you think! I was inspired by how AidanChase handled some of her chapters in her Everybody Lives AU (which is fantastic and I highly recommend if you need a read before next Friday!)

_ September 5th, 1969 _

Headmaster,

I hope you will forgive the late letter. I wanted to write to you before I met Alice and did not feel comfortable waiting until I saw you on Monday. While my classes have begun well and I find my students gifted and engaged, I have become concerned about a few of them.

The Black sisters have each excelled beyond reasonable expectations. The eldest seems to have already mastered everything I intend to teach, though I worry about her extracurricular knowledge. I have yet to meet such an accomplished nonverbal spellcaster as Andromeda Black - particularly not at her age. Narcissa Black too seems well on her way to rival her sisters, but I was alarmed by what I saw during our boggart segment.

Narcissa Black was the only student in her year unable to dispel her boggart and I have reason to believe it took the form of a relative. My best guess is the Black sisters’ mother. I believe you can imagine the reason for my concern. There are few conclusions that can be drawn when a child’s greatest fear is their parent.

I’m sure we are both well aware of the ongoing investigations into Druella and Cygnus Black, but I would urge you and Alastor to look into more immediate options to help the girls. I am not sure that their safety can be guaranteed when next they return home. 

While Bellatrix is of age and able to make her own choices, Narcissa Black is still a child and even Andromeda Black may not yet be without hope if we can provide them with assistance and safety in time. 

I anticipate your suggested course of action and hope you have a more peaceful weekend than it is perhaps beginning.

Respectfully yours,

Frank Longbottom

* * *

_ September 13th, 1969 _

Bellatrix,

Your father and I are very pleased with your success in assisting his cause, but there is really no more putting off the consideration of your future. You will have responsibilities once our cause has been achieved and we cannot allow you to delay your sisters’ obligations. Eugenia will expect us to be able to set a date come this summer and you know well that the eldest daughter should be the first to marry. Your father and I will not allow questions of propriety to fall upon our family.

I understand that your expectations are high, as they should be. There are few families who rival our own. If Eugenia hadn’t encouraged Rodolphus’s attachment to your sister, I would think it our best course of action. But as it is, we will have to make other arrangements for you. 

I’ve arranged teas with Cemonora Flint, Selore Avery, and Edali Shafiq. After meeting with them, I will arrange an introductory owl. Their sons will be at your father’s holiday dinner and I expect you to model appropriate behavior for your sisters. 

Ransom Avery has expectations of a seat on the Wizengamot in the spring, which is a position that will not go amiss in the coming years. He does not have quite Everett Shafiq’s inheritance, but comes without Shafiq’s embarrassment of a cousin. But either would make suitable matches.

You will hear from us again shortly.

Druella

* * *

_ September 13th, 1969 _

Lucius,

My visit home is finished, but we received unexpected guests. I was supposed to bring gifts, but it went to the wrong address. We should expect it to arrive during potions on Monday. If I am not able to accept it, you will need to be available to receive it.

I’ll see you soon,

Rodolphus

* * *

_ September 16th, 1969 _

Drom,

No one’s telling me anything, but I overheard Uncle Cygnus in the fireplace. He mentioned the Hospital Wing? And a duel? Weren’t you the one who lectured me for trying to hex Bella last Christmas? Not that I mind, I think it's brilliant. But you are okay, right?

Mother and Father keep going silent whenever Reg and I are in the room, so I hope you’re okay. Things have been weird all summer, so Reg thinks I’m making a big deal out of nothing. But we’ve been getting letters every couple of hours and you know how much old ‘Burga hates owls. 

Has Bella used her dress robes yet? Don’t tell her, but I filled her pockets with dung bombs when she stayed over at the end of August and I’m thinking they should go off the next time she pulls them out. Be sure to tell me when she does, okay?

Hope you’re okay. Do you think if I wrote Dumbledore I could convince him to let me start a year early? I don’t think I can go another year without losing my mind. Reg told me not to, but I think that was because I had the idea for a howler campaign.

Let me know about Bella.

Sirius

* * *

_ September 17th, 1969 _

Eugenia,

Cygnus and I want to extend our sympathies for what you and your family must be enduring at the moment. We also wish to express our regrets for Andromeda’s involvement. Though her intentions were correct, her involvement was a regrettable accident. 

We are taking steps to ensure it does not occur again moving forward. She is still young and we will ensure she is ready to comport herself in a manner befitting her place beside your son. I am confident Rodolphus has her well in hand, but we take our responsibilities seriously until such a time as she enters your son’s home.

Our friends are taking steps to make sure your husband’s work was not done in vain. By the time our children have children of their own, we will have fulfilled our duty to our families.

We are here for any comfort or assistance you should need. I am sure Cygnus's own letter will follow in the next few days. He will be at the ministry first thing in the morning to meet with the Wizengamot. 

Best wishes,

Druella

* * *

_ September 18th, 1969 _

Cissa,

I hope third year is still going well. Things have been quiet here until recently. Sirius thinks Meda was caught dueling, but that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t sound like her, does it? But he also keeps going on about sending Dumbledore howlers and starting Hogwarts a year early, so it might be nothing. 

Did you know he tried to hide dungbombs in Bella’s dress robe pockets? I took them out and put them in his, but I don’t imagine he’ll discover that until Christmas. 

The only thing is that Mother and Father have been acting strange. They’ve been whispering a lot and getting lots of letters. Do you know if everything is alright with your family? Did Andromeda really get in trouble?

Your favorite cousin,

Reggie

* * *

_ October 5th, 1969 _

F’anwylyd,

I wish I knew where to begin, but your letter said so much and offered so little I hardly know what to say. I can infer several things from what I know of you and more from what I know of recent events, so I trust whatever you cannot tell me comes from the right place. I wish you would have the same faith in yourself. I know you’re doing the best by your students that you are able. 

I believe that writing to Alastor was the right move - or at least the only move available to you in that moment. I understand how many families might be involved in other investigations, but your first priority as a professor is the safety of your students. It concerns me most, whatever it is you saw, that Dumbledore seems to be aware of it. Are you sure he understands the extremity of the situation? I understand you wish to honor privacy, but perhaps if Dumbledore better understood the situation he would interfere.

You’ve always had a generous heart, Frank - more so than anyone else I know. That isn’t something to be ashamed of. You’ll be a far better auror for it than many of the wizards I’ve been stuck with - I have many other selfish reasons to wish you back with me, but having you to run interference with Dawlish is no small factor. If he explains basic procedure to me one more time, I may transfigure him into a flobberworm. Though he wouldn’t be all that much more useful around the office, he might at least be quieter.

While you’re thinking of your students, I hope you are also thinking of yourself - at least for my benefit. I’ve heard things that quite unnerve me, Frank. Septimus’s death was horrific enough without fearing  _ his _ reach might extend into Hogwarts with you. I worry that some of your students might be more a danger to others than they are in danger themselves. 

I still would quite like to marry you, Longbottom. I’ve endured too many teas with your mother for you to back out now and I’d quite like to meet you at the altar in one piece. 

Your worrying beloved,

Alice

* * *

_ October 5th, 1969 _

Miss Black,

You must be tired of hearing it, but really you cannot be congratulated enough for your work on the Wiggentree. I know many far more experienced wixen who would not have been able to provide such exemplary care - let alone on the timeline with which you achieved it.

Headmaster Dumbledore also wished me to pass along his own ‘well wishes and hearty thanks’. He awarded another twenty points to Slytherin for your services to both the Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures programs. 

We both regret that you could not be there to see it planted after all you did to see it thrive, but the current situation necessitated it to be a more closely observed endeavor. I can assure you the wiggentree took to the spot you found quite well and Hagrid has full confidence that the bowtruckles should find it shortly. In the meantime, we will be making daily visits to ensure its welfare. We will not see your hard work fall short now.

And though you’ve only just rid yourself of one task, I must tell you the break will be short lived. I received word yesterday evening that the Whomping Willow sprout has finally grown enough for transport. Moving it will be no laughing matter - though it is too small to do harm to others quite yet, it is very capable of causing harm to itself. We expect it to arrive just before dawn on the 11th and receiving it will be a task in and of itself. I suggest you review and practice the spells we’ve discussed. We can’t afford any mistakes. 

Professor Longbottom will meet you outside the entrance hall at 5:15 to escort you to the castle gates. I trust you understand the importance of discretion in this matter.

Best wishes,

Professor Sprout

* * *

_ October 7th, 1969 _

Lestrange -

Find the package, before we have to retrieve it ourselves

* * *


End file.
